


city of dreams

by Arya_Silvertongue



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Black Mirror - San Junipero AU, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, References to Depression, References to euthanasia, Second Chance at Love and Life, Terminal Illnesses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-12-17 13:53:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21055490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arya_Silvertongue/pseuds/Arya_Silvertongue
Summary: One does not simply kick the bucket without seeing their own masterpiece.After years of denying himself the chance to experience his life’s greatest work, Dr. Rodney McKay finally changes his mind. Visiting Atlantis is only supposed to be a one-off thing, a last-ditch effort to make peace with lifelong regrets. Instead, Rodney finds more and more reasons to keep coming back.(An SGA San Junipero AU)





	city of dreams

**Author's Note:**

  * For [popkin16](https://archiveofourown.org/users/popkin16/gifts).

> Stumbled into the whole Stargate business a little over three months ago. Fell in love with Rodney McKay. 
> 
> (Dedicated to @popkin16, who welcomed me into the fandom with open arms. Thank you for your patience.)

“How many fingers am I holding up?”

Rodney struggled to scoff and squirm at the same time, while a pair of strong hands held his head in place. His precious, precious head. He tried blinking once, twice, before the pressure on his left temple eased, followed by a sudden assault via harsh glare of bright, yellow light.

“Rodney! Answer me.”

There was no mistaking that voice. Only one person could make his name sound utterly odious.

“Well.” He felt pretty proud of his attempt to glare at the shifting beam of light, no doubt being moved from right to left to right again by a rather pretentious doctor of something that he’s pretty sure was not medicine. “Seeing as how both of your hands are currently preoccupied, I’d say zero.”

“Oh,” the same voice said, sounding uncharacteristically sheepish. “I suppose you’re right.”

The light was clicked off and the remaining hand left Rodney’s face. As he felt the beginnings of a lecture on the harmful effects of flash blinding take shape on his tongue, his vision cleared and Rodney found himself squinting at the face of an old friend. 

“…Radek?”

A thick brow climbed from behind round-rim glasses. “You expect someone else?”

Trying to stand was a bad idea, as the wave of nausea was far more effective at slamming him back on his seat than the solid hand on his shoulder.

“No sudden movements, please. Mind is adjusting to interface.”

The urge to throw up was so strong that for a long moment, Rodney forgot the very essence of where he was and what it meant.

“Why is this happening?” He turned his face to the direction of Zelenka’s voice, this time unable to glare as his eyes were shut so tight it made him even dizzier. “I thought it was supposed to be a smooth transition. I _distinctly _remember someone telling me it’s supposed to be a smooth transition.”

Rodney heard a muttered curse, one of the phrases he never bothered looking up the meaning of even after all these years. “Yes, Rodney. It is indeed a smooth transition, for regular cases. You are not a regular case, yes? As you were so fond of reminding me.”

He popped one eye to risk a glance, not entirely sure if what he heard was a compliment or not. “Excuse me?”

Zelenka took three dramatic steps back, and shot Rodney a look that was more skeptical than it had any right to be. It would’ve been a familiar, even charming, expression had Rodney felt a little less inclined to projectile vomit.

“Did something happen out there they failed to tell me? Did you perhaps have accident, and sustained brain damage? Are you simple now, Rodney, is that it?” The bespectacled cretin paused, as he seemed to consider his many options for next-idiotic-thing-to-say. “Or unexpected side-effect? Hmm. You _did_ say it was tricky process.”

Rodney spent his next few breaths wondering how he ever missed the guy.

“More explanation, less harassment, okay? I may be out of practice with dealing with your lunacy, but give me a few minutes and I’ll remind you why they gave me more awards than you.”

Mercifully, Radek took the high road and had them back on track with nothing more than a patented eye-roll.

“You are Visitor, yes?”

This time, it was Rodney’s turn to roll his eyes. “And? Even Visitors are not supposed to feel like they got off the wrong side of The Cyclone. That’s kind of like the definition of _smooth transition_, Radek.”

“Yes, yes. Smooth transition, yes. But you’re no ordinary Visitor, remember? Backdoor access. Not part of preview packet. Your design, even. And unique to your genetic code. You anticipated this before, and it appears to be even milder than your hypochondria-riddled notes.”

Before he can tear at the last three words, Rodney’s brain started booting up and he quickly processed Radek’s words.

Backdoor access. Right.

“Right,” he repeated, this time out loud. “Well, I can certainly remember something to that effect.”

“Of course.”

Rodney shot Zelenka a proper glare this time. 100% Trademark McKay staredown. “I’m sure you can _forgive_ me for not deeming that particular information important until now. It’s not like I spend all my days preparing for this moment, you know.”

The expression on Radek’s face softened, and for the first time since waking up to a throbbing pulse at the back of his skull, Rodney regretted his decision less than when he started.

“It is good to see you again, Rodney.” The twitch on Radek’s lips turned into a full smile. “And welcome to Atlantis.”

.

.

_MRM SIGNS WITH ALTERA_

_FATHER OF MODERN SCIENCE STEPPING DOWN_

_ALTERA SYSTEMS INCORPORATED: FUTURE OF TECHNOLOGY_

_“I’M DONE. GET OVER IT.” – MCKAY_

_WIFE’S DEATH FINAL STRAW?_

Rodney woke up with an Erlenmeyer flask, a trashed laboratory, and a bitch of a headache.

It took the laboratory part a second to register, but when it did, it came as no surprise. It might have been years since the last time he got stupid drunk, and he was probably too old to walk off a bad hangover, but Rodney McKay never forgot anything. Especially not the consequences of poor decisions.

“Huh.”

Stepping over two shattered keyboards to get to the nearest stool that was still intact, Rodney felt something on his thigh vibrate. He fished the thin phone from his pocket and barely spared a glance at the bright _EW_ on the screen before tossing the unit on the desk with the busted workstation. The monitor now had a fantastic hole at the center of the polarized glass.

Final straw? Bullshit. He was just getting started.

“My god.”

A sharp and crisp voice cut across the air and straight to the haze of Rodney’s pounding head. Carefully, he turned his head to face the newcomer.

“Hi, Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth Weir wore black slacks, a red, button-down shirt, and the pinchiest pinched expression on her perpetually-pristine face. Rodney felt himself regressing to age four as several emotions danced across her face, a display only made visible to a select few. He watched her browse through at least half a dozen tart reprimands, a rather vicious dressing down, and a handful of questions, before settling down with a short,

“ASI? Really?”

He bowed his head and loosened his hold on the glass that still held less than 200 mL of bourbon. “They’re not so bad."

Rodney could picture the crossing of arms even from his premium spot of determining just how much _less _than 200 mL of alcohol was left based on the distance of the liquid from the closest calibration mark. The sluggish attempt at a calculation was just too embarrassing, he wouldn’t let even his most insipid _intern_ read his mind right now.

“We _are_ talking about Altera, right? The company who tried to propose a joint venture for the project every six months for the last five years? The one you dissed in your Nobel Prize acceptance speech?”

“_First_ Nobel,” was the automatic response, ever since that fateful morning when he’d loudly declared to anyone who’d listen that it surely wouldn’t be his _only_. “And ‘dissed’? Seriously? Who are your new friends and why do they have such a pedestrian vocabulary? Yes, Altera. I signed the damn papers; it’s a done deal. Get over it.”

He soon realized his poor choice of words when he chanced a glance and saw the moment Elizabeth’s mind connected his latest display of uncharacteristic violence to last night’s news headlines. 

“Rodney—”

“I don’t wanna hear it.”

The soft click of heels stopped just beside him, and he watched as Elizabeth cleared a space on the desk with the sleeve of her shirt and parked herself on the chair next to him.

“I’m more upset that you did this while we were on vacation.” She gave him a sidelong glance, the beginning of a frown on her red lips. “I expected better from you.”

“You always do,” he whispered, slowly feeling the bone-weary exhaustion of people who slept too much and yet not enough. “And your husband sees the worst in me. It’s the world’s least entertaining double act.”

“Surely you don’t believe that.”

“Oh, I do. You should’ve seen his comments on the last paper I published. Even _I_ was not as scathing during Tunney’s presentation for Krapper Innovations.”

“Kramer,” Elizabeth corrected with a smirk. “And yes, my husband may be your most stringent critic, but you are his. That is how the two of you work.”

Rodney looked over Elizabeth’s shoulder, before narrowing his eyes at the amused expression on her features.

“Where _is_ he, anyway? If you cut your trip short to come here, I’d have expected him to arrive before you to tear me a new one.” He paused, when a horrible thought made his empty stomach lurch. “Is he— He’s okay, right?”

To his relief, Elizabeth’s smile held little to no warning signs. “He is well. The vacation helped, and the doctors tell me they’re expecting a full recovery.”

“Good, good.” The knot in his gut loosened, but a faint scent of suspicion refused to go away. “So where is he, really?”

Elizabeth’s smirk returned, this time in full force. “Palo Alto.”

“What! Why?”

She shrugged, deftly plucking his fingers off the flask and smelling the liquid before pushing it to the farthest corner of the table.

“He wants to ‘make sure they understand the pitomec’s crazy version of science’.” The way her voice dropped told Rodney the statement was most probably verbatim. At his indignant squawk, Elizabeth’s smirk turned into a fond smile. “He just doesn’t want all your hard work to be wasted.”

“And what exactly is he gonna do in the ASI Headquarters reading about a business arrangement without you? He’s not a lawyer.”

Rodney was starting to get worried with how many smirks he’s getting from Elizabeth Weir in such a short span of time.

“Richard is with him.”

He grimaced at the mental image. “You are all _intolerable_.”

“We just know how much your work means to you, Rodney. Radek more than anyone.”

Elizabeth never lied, which made her genuine belief in the words harder to swallow.

“Not this,” he told her, feeling numb at how much he did and didn’t mean it. “Not anymore.”

.

.

“So this is what taking the red pill feels like.”

He’d managed to stand just long enough to get off one chair and sit back down on another. The sensations he’s experiencing were just a little left of normal, but if Zelenka’s explanations were to be believed, they _were_ what counted for normal in a situation like his.

“I see you are still not funny,” said Radek, fingers busy with a console that monitored Rodney’s vital signs. It made the display far too medical and Zelenka far too confused that Rodney was starting to go back to the whole worrying thing. “Misguided love for cinema from Bronze Age does not make for a working sense of humor, Rodney. I have told you this many times.”

After a long time doing without the Czech’s abysmal turn of phrase, it took Rodney a while to parse through the gibberish commentary.

“Was Elizabeth lying when she told me you were doing good here? Because I could’ve sworn you had a better grasp on history before. Now I’m not saying anything before the second Industrial Revolution is worth studying, but you at least need to know the basics to function in society.”

Watching Radek suppress a scowl was entertaining for the full three seconds it took to realize he was staring at the man’s chin. A chin he could finally _see._

“Hey!” Rodney jumped off his seat but kept his distance, afraid of this creature he was finally seeing before him. Once he noticed the chin, all the other differences were registering in his brain, threatening to overwhelm his admittedly-delicate sensibilities. “Your beard’s gone! And your _hair_, what happened to it? How come you have more _and_ less hair? And you’re _young_!”

Radek left the screen with the suspicious data and leaned on a table, looking far too amused to be healthy.

“I would not really call physical age of thirty-five to be young. I prefer ten years younger, but alas, this is my prime.” He lifted both his eyebrows, as though to share a joke Rodney just wasn’t getting. “Yes, Rodney. I am no longer middle-aged. I don’t get your surprise. You know me in this age, did you not?”

While Rodney was disoriented and still pissed at how much seeing Radek again tugged at places in his chest he’s long since refused to acknowledge existed, he was still a genius. When he finally got it, he scrambled to the nearest reflective surface he could find, which in this case was a translucent glass panel next to a shelf filled with what looked like crystal slabs. Rodney filed the crystals in his brain as something to revisit later, before squinting at the familiar stranger staring back at him.

“Holy shit.”

Fuller cheeks, less-pronounced crow’s feet, erect spine. His hair was also back to its sandy brown glory, worn just as long as when he first met—

“Rodney?”

His eyes, however, looked exactly the same. The same chasm he’d been waking up to every morning never left.

“Prime physical form,” Radek explained, standing behind Rodney with disgustingly-sad eyes. “That was the program, yes? Would you care to watch the rest? You _do_ still have only until midnight.”

Rodney turned so quickly that the other man jumped, startled.

“Even for backdoor access?”

His glare didn’t faze Radek.

“Yes,” said the Czech. “Visitor rules, remember? What was it…you called it something…Yes, yes. ‘Prime directives’, you said. Very pretentious. No doubt another ancient movie reference.”

Rodney was starting to get ticked off by Zelenka’s insistence for him to ‘remember’. He’d spent _years_ trying to forget, dammit. The point of it was so he no longer _could_ remember.

“So. You ready to look around?”

Rodney stared at his reflection one last time before watching his own eyes shutter as a modicum of control returned.

“I have to do something first. This hair, it’s—” Disconcerting? Irritating? Reminding him of a time when he was less miserable? “Anyway, it looks ridiculous. Scissors. I need scissors.” He snapped his fingers at Radek’s dumfounded face, not stopping before his friend made a beeline for one of the tables. “Clean ones, Zelenka!”

When he finally managed to get his hair to a manageable state, one hour had already passed. As Rodney whined and groaned about his clothes—

“_Orange fleece?_ Where do you think we are, the South Pole?”

“Shut up and keep walking, Rodney. I will teach you how to change later.”

—Radek led him to hallway after hallway before a pair of stained-glass doors slid open and Rodney found himself staring at the most beautiful spire his eyes had ever seen. One among many, in fact, that decked a glittering city backdropped by an endless stretch of darkness. Ocean, if the distant sound of crashing waves were any indication.

“I believe there is a popular saying about kittens and tongues that would be most appropriate for your reaction right now, my friend.”

_Atlantis, _Rodney’s mind breathed out. He was finally in Atlantis.

“It is beautiful, ano?”

Beautiful, yes. It’s stunning, and real, and everything he ever hoped it would be.

“You always said it‘s going to be beautiful,” Radek continued, unaware or perhaps unbothered by the downward-spiraling mess right next to him. “I cannot even be upset to admit you were entirely correct.”

_It’s gonna be magnificent, Zelenka,_ he’d told Radek, a lifetime ago. _It has to be. It’s gonna be beautiful, and she’s gonna love it._

“Ay!” Radek snapped out of his own daze to frown at his beeping watch. He cursed in his native tongue for a few seconds before turning to Rodney with an apologetic frown. “I forgot to send Elizabeth update before we left lab. I must go, she will want to know how you are.” He pointed to a cluster of towers to Rodney’s left. “Travelers Bar, East Pier. I will see you there in half hour.”

“I’m sorry, what? There’s a _bar_ in here?”

Radek’s sideways look was just not justified. “You leave it for ten years, it will mutate.”

“Oh that’s just a ridiculous metaphor! And are you saying you’re leaving me to wander around by myself? Hey!”

The doors slid open again as Radek crossed the threshold.

“You’ll be fine, Rodney. I will be quick, but you mustn’t waste any time. Remember, half hour. Enjoy!”

_“Zelenka!”_

The doors shut before Rodney could yell more about turncoats and throwing innocents to the wolves.

He spun back to view behind him, the shaking in his hands now starting to subside. After looking his fill and committing the image to memory, Rodney decided to take his chances with the rest of the city. Remembering schematics and long-buried information to help him navigate had been surprisingly easy. As he got to the more populated areas, he couldn’t help but feel a little disturbed watching so many people milling about. Seeing what laid beyond the windows, touching the walls, breathing the salty-sea air, however, more than made up for it.

“Hi,” a female voice interrupted his marveling of the tower he just exited. She’s a brunette, wearing a purple, long-sleeved dress and a smile that could not have been mistaken for anything other than what it was.

Rodney’s stomach churned at how young she was. Way, way younger than him, until he remembered where he was.

“Resident,” she added, holding out a hand.

“Oh,” said Rodney, rather unintelligibly. “Umm. Vistor? Yes. Visitor. Me. I’m a…Visitor.”

He shook the offered hand and went back to staring at the architecture. It was not, he’d tell Radek later, in an effort to avoid further conversation.

“It’s truly spectacular, isn’t it?” The woman, it would seem, didn’t think it was, either. “This whole place is, really. Can you imagine the genius it took to build all this? I mean. It took me just two Visits to make up my mind. It was five cycles ago, but I still can’t get enough of this city.”

Rodney hummed and grunted at the appropriate times, but kept his eyes on the tower. It was _there_, and it was _real_. Unfortunately, the fifth-cycle-Resident couldn’t take a hint and blocked his view to show him how much wider her smile could get.

“Allina Quindosim,” she offered.

Lucky for Rodney, he was smart enough to realize that walking around Atlantis declaring who he was would not end well for anybody, least of all him.

“Rod,” he told her, and left it at that. He shook the faint memory of a muffled snort that accompanied the ache somewhere in his chest cavity.

“Is it your first time to visit, Rod?” He flinched as he felt her dainty fingers closing around one of his elbows. “If you like, I can show around. I’m sure it wouldn’t do well for you to waste your precious hours not knowing where to go.”

Rodney only avoided to forcibly yank his arm away by the skin of his teeth. As he employed what he was sure was some contortionist’s special move, he conjured a small smile that felt like a grimace, and pointed a thumb to the direction of what he hoped was the East Pier.

“I’m afraid I have to go. Meet old friends, and all that. You have a lovely dress, though. And—and…Bye!”

He didn’t even feel the least bit guilty as he ran towards a smaller structure with the blinking sign that spelled out ‘Travelers’.

But suffocated, he very much was.

_Smothering_ wasn’t even close to how Rodney felt the moment he stepped inside. It looked as though half the people in the city were crammed inside the bar, and he barely came out of a throng of dancing bodies before he was able to snag an empty seat. He still wasn’t sure if not knowing which ones are ‘Residents’ and which ones are ‘Visitors’ was a good or a bad thing. He was _so_ going to kill Zelenka for letting him go here. And no, the irony of that thought was not hilarious.

Fortunately, the music wasn’t so bad. The current one was some pop from the early decades of the twenty-third century, a song Rodney didn’t mind so much. When it ended, and a slower, sweeter instrumental filled his ears, the ceiling of the dancefloor lit up, and stars danced across Rodney’s eyes.

“Wow,” a deeper, decidedly-male voice drawled out from behind him. “Did I do that?”

.

.

Rodney flinched as Miko slammed another stack of files on his desk.

“Okay! I give up.” He raised both hands to indicate his point. “Will you just tell me what I did this time? Your passive-aggressive paper pushing is not helping me understand Elizabeth’s email. She sounds mad. And you_ look_ mad, and I just don’t get _why_.”

Miko paused just enough to mutter, “Idiot,” in Japanese.

“Hey! I speak Japanese too, you know! And what are you even _doing_ in my office? Your lab’s two floors down, and I have a perfectly good secretary who should be doing whatever it is you’re doing. And I’m sure she can do it _quietly_.”

The small woman huffed before dropping all pretense of arranging the books on his shelf to stand in front of him, hands on her goddamn waist.

“What you did this morning. It was not wise.”

It took a second to get what she’s going on about. He did _a lot_ this morning.

“The meeting with the startups?” By the twitch in her left eye, Rodney was pretty sure he’s dead on. “What about it?”

He found himself gaping when Miko balled her fists and looked just about an inch from lunging at him.

“Dr. Kusanagi!” Rodney moved his seat backwards and held on to his desk, the only thing currently standing between him and the irate Japanese. “Restrain yourself, please. Is this about the last proposal, the one from that scary-looking guy with the tattoo?”

Miko took a deep breath and looked almost rueful. “Yes. Mr. Teal’c Chulak. His was the presentation about alternative energy.”

Rodney quickly scanned his brain for the right memory. “Right. Yes. Forehead guy. I mean, what is _up_ with that?”

“Rodney!”

“Okay, okay! Chulak, yeah.” He tried to remember the details of the proposal. “Brilliant idea. Truly. But risky. Too risky.” He levelled his fellow scientist with what he hoped was a knowing look. “We’ve seen these things before, Miko. Too idealistic. And we’re not even sure if it can be backed up by the right science. Now, if they can fix the part about possibly blowing up half the country, they are welcome to give us another presentation.”

Rodney could tell that Miko was starting to see sense, but she wouldn’t be a good scientist if she doesn’t argue her point one last time.

“But remember what Elizabeth keeps telling us? ‘The benefit to humanity is—”

“—is greater than the risk, yes, yes. Lovely and inspiring, I’m sure. But as much as I love her, Elizabeth Weir is not a doctor of anything that has to do with science. Chulak’s proposal is reckless. You know it, I know it, everyone on the committee knows it. Hence, we didn’t pick them up.”

He knew he had it in the bag when Miko sighed and proceeded to get the papers she placed on his desk, no doubt to return them to wherever it was that provided props for minor hissy fits.

“You did not have to be so rude about it,” she said, hand on the doorknob.

“Umm, have you _met _me? And seriously, Miko, I wasn’t any less or more rude than I needed to be. The guy had to see reason, and as quickly as possible. If I was being more offensive than I normally am, well, you don’t see anyone punishing me for it, now do you?”

No punishment indeed, as the door to his office opened less than an hour after Miko left to reveal a tall, gorgeous blonde with legs that went on forever and eyes that held something downright pornographic.

“Can I help you?” Rodney resisted the urge to clear his throat when his voice came out a little squeakier than planned.

“Captain Samantha Carter,” said Tall and Gorgeous , and Rodney had to blink a few times to realize that the woman was indeed military, and wearing her dress blues, no less. What did the USAF want with him, for them to go so far as to send the woman of his dreams?

“Well what can I do for you, Captain? And please do sit, that posture must be _hell_ for your…er, feet.”

Captain Samantha Carter continued to watch him squirm in his own chair, and refused to so much as take a closer step.

“I just wanted to meet the genius who couldn’t recognize a groundbreaking plan for sustainable energy when it’s literally being handed to him on a silver platter,” said Carter, with a stiff smile.

Rodney was too busy preening from being called a genius by someone other than himself — and Radek when the bastard was feeling particularly ironic or blatantly wanted something from him — that the last few words took a while to register. When they did, they registered _hard_.

“…Pardon?”

Unlike Miko, the captain’s eyes did not twitch, but her eyebrows did something that told Rodney she was not impressed with him. At all. “You _are_ Rodney McKay, right?”

Biting down the urge to demand the _Doctor_ part of his name, Rodney gave her a sharp nod and slumped his shoulders after a few more seconds of silent staredown between the two of them. The woman was still standing, and it hurt Rodney’s neck to keep on looking up.

“Oh, come _on_. Is everyone mad at me for that? First Elizabeth, then Miko, now you?” He eyed her up and down, this time with a little less sly and a little more scorn. “What do _you_ know, anyway? You’re just a fly girl."

The words were out before Rodney could stop himself, and the first real emotion flared in Carter’s bright eyes.

“Apart from being a pilot, I am also a scientist, _Doctor_.” So she _does_ know he’s a doctor. “Teal’c first came to me with his idea over a year ago. I helped him design the modified grid-interactive PV systems he showed you in his presentation, so that they’re compatible to the scale of your company’s existing energy centers.”

He chose to ignore the obvious bait to for a scientific argument by focusing on something else. “Well if you were so _involved_ with the proposal, how come you weren’t at the presentation,_ Captain?”_

She gave him a flat look, and tipped her head down to indicate her uniform.

“Right. I see.” The woman really_ had_ nice legs. “Well if you’re such a brilliant scientist, how come you’re in the military? Couldn’t cut it in the big leagues?”

While Rodney knew that the US military-industrial complex employed the best and the brightest, as evidenced by their continuous efforts to have him on their payroll despite his firm roots in the private sector, Carter might not.

“I’m sure your company will disagree with you. Or was it another McKay Global who tried to recruit me twice two years ago?”

Okay. That_ was_ unexpected. Still, Rodney remained in his seat.

“Pa—” He cut the thought short, realizing he already said ‘Pardon’ one too many times. “Are you saying we tried to _hire_ you? Who did you talk to? How sure even are you that is was _us?”_

If this Carter really _was_ as good as she seemed to believe she was, and one of Rodney’s people tried to sign her up, he might have to reevaluate his assessment of his minions’ competence.

Carter’s smirk was just as flawless as the rest of her face. “I’m pretty sure I can recognize Radek Zelenka when he invites me for a cup of tea.”

“What!” This time, Rodney stood up so fast his head spun. _Radek_ tried to recruit a beautiful woman? And he did it over _tea?_ If it wasn’t for their own company, Rodney might’ve just marched himself to the man’s personal lab three doors down the hall. “Now you’re just_ lying_. And are you saying you know Zelenka but you don’t know _me?_ Just how removed are you from the scientific community outside wherever base you’re holed up in?”

To Rodney’s surprise, the beginnings of a smile were threatening to form in the corner of the Captain’s lips. Judging by the surprised look that took over her face, she was just as surprised about it as he was. She tried to tamp down the amusement on her expression by giving him a blank stare, but they both know Rodney already saw it.

“My _point_, Dr. McKay,” Rodney thought she really had no right to be irritated, as she was the one who initiated the tangent in their conversation, “is that if you’d given the committee more time to review Teal’c’s proposal, you’d come to the conclusion that while it _is_ risky, it can also be viable under the right company. Instead, you chewed my friend out on a technicality and didn’t even give him the chance to explain himself.”

Rodney never did well on the defensive, and he just had a really, really long day.

“Technicality, Captain? It wasn’t the supreme court, it was my boardroom. If I don’t like a pitch, I have every right to reject it. Your friend’s technology, if you can even call it that, is ambitious and clearly passionate, but unfortunately lacking in failsafes, not to mention a broader perspective. Science is not a game, and it certainly cannot be a gamble.”

“Don’t even _pretend_ to me that you believe that.” Carter’s voice started to rise, and it looked like she stopped caring about that fact. “If your company could just a fund a more comprehensive risk assessment system, we would greatly improve the mechanism Teal’c’s designed.”

Rodney shook his head, amused despite himself. “There already _was_ a risk assessment, Captain. A 48-hour window before a chain reaction that would result to a _massive_ explosion. I’m even a little insulted your _friend_ thought I’d even consider it.”

“And I’m sure this has nothing to do with Mr. Chulak himself. Is that where your problem lies, Dr. McKay? That Teal’c doesn’t have the proper _education_ to pull off such a project? I didn’t realize you believe only PhDs can want to save the world.”

The words stung, all the more because Rodney knew it was a cheap shot, and an incorrect one at that. The Captain was resorting to distasteful arguments because she believed there was something about the issue he just was not getting. Rodney was suddenly so very tired, of the conversation, and of being seen as something that, despite his many other flaws as a person, he just wasn’t.

“Are you finished?” Fine, let her believe what she wanted to believe. The last time Rodney had to defend his science, it tore him apart. “You said you came here to meet me, now you have. Anything else you wish to say? I have other things to do.”

Carter held his gaze for what seemed like an eternity, before straightening, a feat Rodney wasn’t sure was even possible with how perfect her posture already was.

“Have a good day, Doctor.”

Just like Miko, Carter stopped by the door, looking over her shoulder but not at him.

“And I _did_ know about you. Impossible not to. I’ve read your papers, as well.”

Rodney felt interest, but not enough to wash out the bitter taste being accused of elitism in an industry he fought tooth and nail to excel in left. “And?”

Carter opened the door and, before completely leaving, whispered a soft,

“I’m just sad I had to meet you.”

.

.

With much difficulty, Rodney tore his gaze away from the twinkling lights overhead to face the owner of the voice.

“Hi there.”

The man giving him a mock salute had the messiest hair Rodney had ever seen. It was dark as sin, and stuck out in every direction.

Before he could tear at the stranger for interrupting his makeshift stargazing, the other man’s eyes widened at something behind Rodney.

“_Shit_,” said Messy Hair, dropping down to sit right next to Rodney. There wasn’t much space in the loveseat, even with Rodney scooting as far away as he could. “Do me a favor, buddy. Just go with everything I say.”

“Like_ hell_, I will!”

“Sheppard!”

As though Rodney’s evening had a shortage of tall, dark, and dangerous, another brunette waltzed right in front of them. She was decked in leather from head to toe, and looked at— what did she call Rodney’s intruder again? Sheppy? Sheppard? — like the man broke her pulsed fiber laser, which was not a good thing as two heavyset thugs flanked her on both sides.

“Larrin!” Probably-named-Sheppard called out, slouching into an even lazier position in a chair that was already cramping Rodney’s thighs. “Fancy seeing you here. Did you have a lovely week?”

Ms. Leather Pants spared Rodney a quick glance before giving Sheppard her full attention.

“Of course I’m here. It’s my bar.”

Rodney, who was still not over the idea of there being a _bar_ in his lovely city, attempted to stand up and demand just what other shady businesses were afoot when Sheppard laid a firm hand on his knee, effectively nailing Rodney to the loveseat.

“So. What can I do for you, Larrin?”

Larrin narrowed her eyes, and Rodney had to give it to Sheppard, the guy barely flinched.

“I thought we had an understanding, you and I.” At this, Rodney snorted, and the hand on his knee squeezed once, a silent warning. “We had a _lovely_ time last week, Sheppard, but a deal’s a deal.”

Rodney’s stint as a businessman allowed him to recognize the things not being spoken in a negotiation, and in this particular back and forth, it was clear Sheppard was at a disadvantage.

“Look. I’m just a Visitor, here once a week. I’ll get back to you once I have a decision, but not tonight, okay? I’m here with a friend, haven’t seen him in a while and…” Sheppard turned to his left, and Rodney could see that the man had intense, hazel eyes. Eyes that were currently pleading with him to play his part. “Well, he’s not exactly doing good right now. Six months to live, can you believe that?” When he faced Larrin again, he had a pout on, which Rodney thought was incredibly unfair as it was a really, really good pout. “You know all about those, right, Larrin?”

Larrin shifted his gaze to Rodney, raising an expectant brow. Rodney knew that if he doesn’t corroborate Sheppard’s story, the guy’s dead meat. And he can’t really do that to him, messy hair or not.

“Five months, actually.” The lie came out smoothly, and none was more surprised than Rodney himself. “It’s all so very messy right now. Lots of vomiting, nausea. I can barely remember my name most of the time, and I need assistance for every little thing, even when I have to go—”

“So really,” Sheppard cut in, giving Rodney’s knee another squeeze. “I can’t leave him alone to light things up for you right now. It’s his first time here, and I thought I’d show him around, you know?”

No one seemed to take a breath for a long moment, before Larrin nodded, perhaps deciding that they weren’t worth the trouble. “All right. I’ll wait for you to be back next week.” She started to walk away, making it a few yards before stopping, like she missed something. “I hope you don’t disappoint me, Sheppard. Do we know whatever happened to the last person who did?” She tipped her head to one of her thugs, who just shrugged.

“We don’t know,” said Thug Number One.

“We never found his body,” added Thug Number Two.

When they all left, so did the tension in Sheppard’s body.

“Sorry about that,” he said, shooting Rodney a wry smile. “Sheppard. John Sheppard.”

The offered hand was almost missed when Rodney’s brain decided to linger on the turn of phrase. It took a few moments, but he dismissed it as coincidence. The odds of Sheppard watching the same centuries-old films Rodney was bent on liking were very slim.

With a little mental slap at himself, he shook the hand. Of _course_ the man had to be a John. “Rodney M—” _Shit_. “—Rodney. Just. Rodney.” Shit shit _shit_.

“Is ‘Just’ a family name or a second name?” Some of his panic must’ve shown, as Sheppard barely concealed his amusement. “_Kidding_. Rodney, it is.”

Rodney nodded furiously, relief so intense he could feel it with every exhale. “Yep, yep. That’s me. Rodney. That’s… my name.”

“Got that, buddy.” Sheppard stood up and took the seat on the other side of the table. “Thanks for the save, by the way. I owe you one. And that bit about the five months was a nice touch, although the verbal diarrhea afterwards was a little overkill.”

Rodney felt himself puff in indignation. “Well, I wasn’t exactly prepared to lie to dark-haired vixens when I came here, you know.”

“Yeah. Totally my fault.” Rodney could see very little remorse on Sheppard’s face, as the guy leaned back and all but draped himself over his own loveseat. “So. I take it you really _are_ a Visitor? Is it your first time as well?”

Rodney snorted. “What gave it away?”

“No offense, but you didn’t exactly look like you were fitting in.” He cocked his head to the direction of the dancefloor, then gestured at Rodney with his eyebrows. “So. The whole five-months-left isn’t really true, right? You’re not about to kick the bucket out there?”

Something heavy settled in Rodney’s gut. There’s just so many ways a person could answer that question. But contrary to what Prince Charming might think about him, Rodney did know a thing or two about lying.

“Not on my deathbed, no. You? Also a… Visitor?”

Sheppard nodded. “Yep. But I’m a regular here; I drop by every week.”

For lack of anything else to say, Rodney just nodded. “Good, good.”

The silence stretched on for a long moment, where Rodney found himself shifting his gaze between the dancefloor, the flickering lights, and Sheppard’s gaze, which had been on him for the past minute. It was beginning to get unnerving, and he could feel his ears start to burn.

“What!” Rodney snapped, when the guy didn’t show any signs of explaining himself.

“Say, you got any plans for the next,” Sheppard looked down on the watch strapped to his left wrist. The right one, Rodney just noticed, sported an ominous, black wristband. “two and a half hours?”

There was something coating the words, and Rodney felt himself bristling. “Why?”

Sheppard’s eyes didn’t let up, and Rodney continued to squirm under his intense, alien gaze.

“It’s almost midnight,” John Sheppard tells him, after a long moment of nothing but heavy silence. “Why waste time sitting here?”

Rodney, despite being a certified genius, could sometimes be a little slow on the uptake, especially on subtle things. This, however, was far from subtle.

“Oh.” Suddenly, Rodney couldn’t sit still. There just was nowhere to put all his limbs. “Are you—Is this— Coz I’m not—”

He was being propositioned. By a _man._ A man who wore dog tags, no less. Oh yeah, there was no mistaking the silver chain around John Sheppard’s neck. Their little jaunt sitting with shoulders-to-thighs next to each other made him privy to just what kind of jewelry sat under the black shirt.

“Hey, hey, _breathe_. It’s fine. No big deal. No need to faint on me.”

“It’s called pass out, thank you very much.” Fortunately, the air was slowly finding its way back into his lungs. “And I wasn’t gonna. Just— I just…wasn’t expecting it, that’s all.”

If Sheppard was at all disappointed, he didn’t show it. He gave Rodney a single, sharp nod, and that was that. “Like I said, no big deal. Sorry for freaking you out, though.”

Rodney might be unaccustomed to the life of casual propositions, but the last thing he wanted Sheppard to think was that he’s a traditionalist.

“But you didn’t!” he almost yelled, the volume thankfully concealed by the sudden burst of music. “Freak me out, that is. Really. I’m just—” Not attracted to men? Used to being with the same person for almost half a century? Totally freaking out, after all? “—flattered. Yes, yes. I’m…flattered.”

Rodney could see so many things dancing across Sheppard’s eyes, but the only thing he recognized was amusement, and for some reason, it sent his stomach lurching.

“You’re welcome, I guess.” There was good-natured humor back in his voice, and Rodney’s relief was palpable. “But still, we got over two hours. I did tell Larrin I was gonna show you around, and I’d hate for that woman to catch me on a lie.” With that, Sheppard stood up and dramatically held out a hand. “You up for a little tour?”

.

.

“Congratulations on your promotion, _Major_.”

Sam looked up from her laptop, allowing Rodney to enjoy the half-second it took for her to scowl and, remembering who she was and what was expected of her, school her features back into a lazy smirk. 

“And congratulations to _you_ on bagging the project. After years of stalking me, you finally get your chance to work with me instead.”

“About that.” Rodney quirked an eyebrow to point at one of the shelves in Sam’s office, the one filled with half a dozen picture frames. The largest photograph featured Sam Carter next to a tall, bald man with the oddest tattoo right at the center of his forehead. “Your friend, Teal’c? He’s uh…he’s also a civilian contractor, yes?” He swallowed at Sam’s narrowed eyes. “He doesn’t have combat training, does he?”

Sam’s smirk returned, and Rodney felt himself go cold. “_Oh yeah_.”

They spent a few moments just staring at the pictures, the only things on Sam’s office that had personal significance. When Rodney turned to look at her, he noticed that her face had gone wistful. Something stuttered inside him at catching her in such a vulnerable state, so he forced himself to get them back on script.

“So,” Sam snapped back into the present, eyes wild for a second. “still in love with O’Neill?”

“Still in love with me?” she countered without missing a beat.

They locked eyes for a breath, before Sam broke and snorted. Soon enough, the both of them were laughing so hard they were gasping for air when they finally stopped.

“You’re really something else, McKay.”

“Something good, I hope.”

Rodney couldn’t quite tell what was running in Carter’s mind when she looked at him, but whatever it was must not have been that bad, as she went back to her smirky self and leaned back on her chair.

“Jury’s still out,” was what she settled for.

Eventually, their banter turned into shop talk and Rodney lost himself in the exchange of ideas for the newest project between the Air Force and McKay Global. Watching Samantha Carter’s brilliance from the sidelines was nothing compared to hearing her talk about her work to someone in an inner circle. It made him wonder about what might’ve happened had Radek been successful in convincing her to work for them all those years ago. Still, and Rodney would never admit it even under the pain of death, Sam looked good in a military position. And she clearly loved being a pilot.

“So,” Sam placed both her hands on her desk and leaned a little forward. Rodney could see that she still kept her fingernails short and practical. It made sense, what with the nature of her job, but it didn’t explain why Rodney had always found himself fascinated by them. He turned his attention back to Carter’s face. She wore a mock serious expression, which might’ve been intimidating if a smile was not threatening to break out of her lips. “Last I checked you wouldn’t touch us with a ten-foot pole.”

Rodney raised an eyebrow, and the flush on Sam’s cheeks told him she knew exactly what was wrong with that sentence.

“I meant,” she soldiered on, still a little pink, “you hate the military. How come you’re so willing to work for us now?”

It was a question Rodney had been expecting.

“People change, Major.” He shrugged at the skeptical slant of Carter’s own eyebrows. “What? It’s true. And word has it that the USAF has got its hands on very interesting tech. Couldn’t pass up the opportunity to get my hands on it.”

It’s not the whole truth, and Sam could obviously smell the things he wasn’t saying from a mile away.

“Tech? Is what it’s always going to be with you?” She paused, but not enough to give him time for an answer. “Is there anything you love more than your shiny toys?”

She’s just fishing, and there was no malice to her words. Still, Rodney felt like he just got slapped, and his fingers ached at the memory of smooth ivory and vibrating strings.

“Once,” he found himself saying, voice just above a whisper.

He could tell his response took Sam by surprise, and he watched as this time, it was her who struggled to get them back on familiar grounds.

“It’s…not me, right?”

Just like that, they were laughing again. It felt good to laugh, even if it was at something as ridiculous as their shared ineptitude at talking about feelings. At least with this, the rattling in Rodney’s chest was from pure, harmless fun.

“And they call _me_ self-absorbed.” At Carter’s indignant squawk, he shook his head good-naturedly. “Don’t worry, Major. Your secret’s safe with me.”

They were silent again for a moment, before Sam fixed him with yet another indecipherable look, this time tinged with something close to fondness.

“So? Why now?”

Rodney shrugged. “The moment I heard about your research on subspace power sources, I knew I had to be involved. You didn’t tell me the Air Force’s people in Egypt found something precious.”

“Afraid other tech giants would usurp your place as number one, is that it?”

“Say what you want, but you know I’m the best out there, Carter.” She raised a skeptical eyebrow, but didn’t interrupt. “And not just because I’m the smartest, although that would be correct as well. There’s tech for pure science, and tech for people. Now, if I am right about the potential of what your guys found in Giza, it would be game-changing not just for the country, but for the world. And when that happens, you’re gonna need scientists with the right priorities.”

Rodney had been so surprised by his own outburst that he forgot to call Carter out for not disagreeing with him.

.

.

Sheppard led Rodney through a back door, and what followed was another series of hallways and stairs. This time, the walk was brisk and with purpose, leaving the two men with little time to look at anything before another set of doors led them to another section of the city.

Rodney briefly wondered why Sheppard’s tour seemed a lot less like sightseeing and a lot more like a prison break.

“Watch your head.”

As far as warnings go, it was a pretty poor one, because while Sheppard ducked, Rodney had been in the middle of yelling, “What?”

He hit his head on something hard, and the next thing Rodney knew, he was pressed up against a warm body that shook with barely-suppressed chuckles.

“Of _course_ you think it was funny. My head’s pretty valuable, I’ll have you know!”

It was a little weird to be manhandled and almost half-carried by someone who just propositioned him less than an hour ago, but Rodney didn’t feel as uncomfortable as he expected to be.

His forehead stopped throbbing just as they reached the middle of another well-lighted but nondescript corridor. Sheppard paused in front of one of the walls, pressed a hand on the panel, and led Rodney inside a break that appeared as the wall slid open.

After that, there was nothing but darkness and more walking, and Sheppard’s breath across the skin of his neck, saying, “Stay close,” so lightly, Rodney was half-convinced he was imagining it.

Then, there was light, and more stairs that went down, and soon enough, Rodney was staring at an abyss so vast he couldn’t tell where the ocean ended and the night sky began.

“You brought me to another _pier?”_

“The South Pier,” Sheppard declared, eyes bright. “My favorite.”

While it was beautiful, and the distance from the rest of the city big enough to grant them a semblance of peace, Rodney knew it wasn’t all of it.

“Can you, uh….” He eyed the water that reflected the lights from the towers as they lapped at the edges of the platform they were standing on. “Do you swim here, or something? You’re not gonna invite me to, what do people before call it again, thin-dip?”

Sheppard’s quiet laughter sounded much more tender now that it was the only sound Rodney could hear. He found himself going very still, as though making sure he got the hear all of it.

“I believe folks back then called it skinny-dipping, Rodney. And no, I’m not inviting you to swim in the nude. We go in the water, the city’s just gonna punt us right back to the central tower.”

“Huh.” That made sense. Though it still didn’t explain why Sheppard insisted to bring him here. “So what’s so great about this spot, then?”

Under fainter light, Rodney couldn’t make out much of what’s going on in the other man’s face. His hazel eyes, however, twinkled with mischief.

“See for yourself,” said Sheppard, turning around.

A couple of hours ago, Rodney thought it just wasn’t possible to top his first glimpse of Atlantis, in the balcony with Radek. But standing next to Sheppard, on the farthest edge of the city he’d only been dreaming of for half his life, Rodney saw everything in all its glory.

The central spire stood proud and almost golden, flanked by shorter towers of equal grandeur. The ends of what he assumed was the west and eastern piers peaked out like wings, bracketed by more water. Figures milled about every now and then, garbed in colorful patterns too far for the eyes to make out. On the outside looking in, Rodney wasn’t that freaked out by the people, Residents and Visitors alike. He felt a certain kinship with them, that they could find happiness in a city like this.

“As far as I can tell, this was a private viewing platform. Like an outpost or something.” Sheppard pointed to the door they came out of, attached to a smaller building that held nothing of significance. “It transports us back to the main towers. Found out about it my second visit.”

Rodney wanted to ask him so many questions. Like the fact that he didn’t remember bars with twinkling lights in the original design, or even piers with doors that take you to the other side of a city and seemed to hold a lot more secrets than Rodney could ever hope to remember or discover for himself.

Fortunately for him, Sheppard seemed to be in a sharing mood.

“It’s been like that, from the first time I came here.” It was quick, almost lightning fast, but Rodney caught the anxious look Sheppard shot his way. “That’s what Larrin wanted from me, actually. She’s been here forever. Became a Resident almost as soon as the city was made available, but she could never make Atlantis work for her like I could.” He shrugged. “Dunno why. It’s just how things are. Not gonna look a gift horse in the mouth, you know?”

There was a dozen and a half question and demands already on Rodney’s tongue, chief among them was a rather acidic _How dare you!_ But as he looked at Sheppard and the solemn, almost worshipful way he gazed at the city, the words died.

“I take it you’re planning to stay long-term, then.”

For some reason, he could read relief in Sheppard’s eyes, and the other man’s answering smile was so genuine it made something in Rodney ache.

“Oh yeah,” said Sheppard. “Ain’t nowhere else I’d rather be. As soon as the union’s finalized, I’m packing my bags.”

“Wait, what! Union? You’re getting _married?”_

Sheppard shot him a cheeky grin. “Yep.”

“You’re getting married_ now?_ At your age?”

“Now, Rodney.” Sheppard placed a scandalized hand over his chest, and made a show of looking around them to see if anyone else heard the outburst. “Didn’t your folks ever tell you not to discuss a gentleman’s age?”

Rodney scoffed. “You think you’re _gentle?”_

“I _could_ be,” was the muttered response.

They spent the next moment in companionable silence, Rodney with a mind still trying to absorb the last hours’ information overload, and Sheppard with his…whatever it was he was introspecting about. It was only broken when the other man spoke again.

“How ‘bout you? You also planning to change courts, move to the other side of the fence? Liking what you’ve seen so far?”

Rodney snorted, choosing not to dignify his ridiculous metaphors and poor-concealed double entendre for dignity’s sake. Somehow, it seemed like a wrong answer, as he watched a shadow fall over Sheppard’s features.

“You _are_ coming back next week, right?” When Rodney failed to respond immediately, he felt Sheppard tensing beside him. “You gotta be kidding. You’ve only been here once, and you ain’t seen nothing yet. You can’t possibly expect to see the whole place with the next,” he consulted his watch, and frowned as it seemed to have proven his point, “half hour you got left.”

Whatever else Sheppard must’ve said fell on deaf ears as Rodney’s whole body went cold, then hot, and he made a mad grab for the other man’s watch.

“Shit!” yelled Rodney, his heartbeat loud in his ears. “I need to go back to the bar!” Zelenka was going to skin him _alive_, and Rodney had no doubt in his mind that it was utterly probable.

Sheppard held his wrist before he could take the second step. “Wait. You still haven’t answered my question."

“What!” Rodney just _forgot_ about Radek, and he’s only got less than thirty minutes left before midnight. He didn’t have time for whatever crap Sheppard’s going on about.

“I’ll see you next week, right?”

Rodney wanted to yell at the man, tell him that he had not, in fact, been planning to come here at all. And he certainly had no plans to make a second trip. It was all supposed to be simple. In and out. Spend five hours in a guided tour under Zelenka’s watchful eyes, satisfy his curiosities, and then return to tell Elizabeth that he wasn’t missing anything at all, that he’s not going to die and haunt the living world with all his unfinished business.

But looking at Sheppard, Rodney knew none of that would fly. He could recognize a desperate man, and he couldn’t for the life of him understand the reason behind it.

“Yes, yes.” He wiggled the pressure out of his wrist until Sheppard’s fingers came off. “I’ll be here next week. Now let me go, because you can’t even _begin_ to comprehend how screwed I am right now.”

Rodney had no time to correct his unintended innuendo before he was almost skipping to the East Pier, huffing so hard he barely heard Sheppard’s answering laughter.

“So long, Rodney!”

.

.

“What is this?”

Rodney looked up from his data pad to see Sam holding a dead hologram chip.

“A hologram chip,” he told her, his brain blanking on any other answer but the most obvious.

Sam did not seem impressed. “That was running simulations on my bedside table. What was it doing there, Rodney?”

The subscript for the third formula continued to elude Rodney, so his mind was still stuck on the last five operations of his mental calculations.

He had absolutely no idea was Sam was talking about.

Still, he decided to wager a guess. “Running simulations?”

The patented pursed lips of extreme patience and head tilt of one-last-chance-mister came out faster than anticipated.

“You have an office,” she proceeded to tell him, another thing Rodney was sure he already knew. “A fact I keep having to remind you whenever you decide to break your back further by insisting to work here. You wanna run simulations? You do it there. Leave the bedroom alone.”

Thoughts of energy conservation gone, he gingerly accepted the holo chip and eyed it warily.

Simulations. Bedroom. _Oh._

“Did you get a chance to look at them?” The chip did not look damaged, only violently turned off.

Sam froze in the middle of exiting the darkened kitchen.

“I’m tired, Rodney.” Her voice was barely audible, and she kept her back to him. “I don’t wanna have this conversation right now.”

“Sam, wait.”

Rodney thanked his lucky stars that her first instinct wasn’t to grab his arm and dislocated his shoulder. He knew she could do it with both eyes closed. Hell, she’d done it once, during a particularly-memorable Halloween party.

“I don’t wanna fight.” He wanted her to hear him this time. _Really_ hear him. Rodney’s not above begging, but if he _did_ beg, it would just confirm to him that things really were worse than they seemed. “But I really need your help on this one.”

“Rodney—”

“One last section of the code, and we can finally key the base program to our genetic file. You were always better at it than I was.” Flattery didn’t work on her, never did, but he had to _try_. “When that’s finished, we can finally prep it for the first beta test. Maybe— maybe if you _see_ it, you’ll change your mind. If you could just—”

“_Rodney!”_

The sharp edge to his name was more effective than any armlock, and Rodney dropped Sam’s wrist like it burned him.

She stood as still as a statue in front of him. To Rodney, she’d never been so far away.

“I won’t stop you from doing whatever it is you want to do.” Her voice had gone distant, the same hollow way it turned into the first few weeks they started this dance. “Just quit leaving your stuff around. There’s nothing you can show me that would change my mind.”

_Sam—_

_Are you even hearing yourself? No, Rodney. I will not! What’s the point of it all when she’s not even gonna be there? You get that? She won’t _be_ there!_

Before completely disappearing into the hallway, Sam stopped and turned to him one last time, her face showing him just how weary she’d been feeling. They’re really getting too old for this.

“Don’t stay up too late.”

When she’s gone, Rodney went back to the table and started powering everything down. The last threads of hope were starting to unravel, and he just had no idea how long he could keep going.

_I am so sorry, Rodney. We did everything we can._

Their vows survived losing Alex. Their dream did not.

.

.

“Nausea better?”

Rodney used the first few bits of energy he was regaining and channeled them into a proper glare.

All his efforts got him was an eye roll. Typical.

“Big baby,” said Zelenka. Rodney knew perfectly well where he got that.

“I’ll have to say,” the other man continued, and Rodney was very tempted to counter with a _No, you really don’t_, but he knew there was no stopping this train, “I am confused with your recent behavior, Rodney. First you run off when I tell you to stay put. Then you surprise us all with not just two, but _indefinite_ number of visits.” Radek pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose and made an attempt to look skeptical. Rodney thought it just made him seem constipated. “What are you up to?”

Radek had been pretty blasé about missing their rendezvous plans last week, and took Rodney’s brisk instructions to expect him for the next visit with nothing more than an eyebrow and a nod. Rodney should’ve known the bastard would spin conspiracy theories about it with his wife when it was Elizabeth’s turn to visit. Giving them special city privileges and Radek his own version of a backdoor channel was a judgment call Rodney regretted more and more every day.

“Nothing,” said Rodney, knowing perfectly well that short replies drove the other man crazy. “Anything interesting while I was gone?”

Frankly, part of Rodney still had no idea what he’s trying to do, but since he’s already here, he might as well make a productive time out of it.

Radek looked like it was taking half his strength to keep himself from sneering. Good boy.

“One message. Says you are expected at the Jumper Bay the moment you arrive.”

The what now? “Sorry, the _what_ bay?”

Patience did not look flattering on Zelenka’s face.

“Jumper Bay, Rodney. Big open space ten floors up. It’s where cool people party. I’m surprised you already know people who go there, much less get invite after one visit.”

Top of central tower. “The gateship garage?”

“Only you will have city with make-believe spaceships and give them terrible names.”

“What!” Okay, so he might’ve gone a little wild with the alliteration, and it really was more of a hangar than a garage, but _gateship_ was still a reasonable name for the theme he was going for. “It’s a perfectly good name!”

“Good name, yes, yes. But different now. Someone with more sense changed it a while ago. Now leave me alone, Rodney. Come back when your new friends realize you are impossible person even when you have slightly-better hair.”

“Hey!”

“Good_bye_, Rodney.”

He was promptly shoved out of the lab, not even finished grumbling about the day he finally allows himself to deck Zelenka, consequences and Elizabeth Weir be damned.

Finding the right place wasn’t so difficult as the music that blared from inside had been so loud Rodney wondered how the tower still stood. Fortunately, the bay had fewer people than the Travelers bar, and the sight of the ornamental but badass-looking spaceships proved effective in improving his mood.

“Pretty cool, aren’t they?”

It didn’t take a lot of brain cells to place the voice that creeped from behind Rodney, as there seemed to be exactly one person determined enough to have a wiseass crack accompany his entrance.

“Sheppard. I can’t say I’m surprised to run into you. This _does_ seem to be about more your crowd. Terrible music, no doubt terrible drinks.” He eyed the glass on the other man’s hand. Yep. Looked weak. “I assume it was you who wanted me to come here?”

Unlike Radek, Sheppard did not seem to look exasperated by his return. If anything, he even looked pleased.

“Guilty as charged. Had one of my Resident friends drop off a message last week.” A thumb jerked to a far corner showed Rodney a group of four people, every single one of whom were watching them. “Figured you might want a little detour before we go to the pier.”

Fortunately for Rodney’s sanity, he gave up trying to make sense of Sheppard’s actions and motivations the first time he thought about the guy the week he was away, and only ended up convinced he’d had an aneurysm.

“And now I’m here.” Rodney looked around them again, wondering exactly what Sheppard was up to. “_Why_ am I here again?”

Like it was the most natural thing in the world for him, Sheppard placed a warm hand to the small of Rodney’s back and led him to the group not even bothering to hide the fact that they were eavesdropping.

“Guys this is Rodney, the one I was talking about.” Oookay. “Rodney, this is Ronon Dex, Resident. Just call him Ronon, he hates being called by his family name. Evan Lorne and Aiden Ford, also Residents. And this lovely woman right here is—”

Rodney froze, recognizing the harpy in front of him all too well.

“Laura Cadman,” the blonde menace said, offering a manicured hand and a dangerously beautiful smile. Even with a younger face, the gleam of up-to-no-good mischief was as distinct as Rodney’s dead toenail.

Laura took the hand clenched on his side and shook it with force. Her smile remained deceptively sweet as she crooned, “Pleasure to meet you.”

Whatever game she’s playing, Rodney wasn’t interested in finding out.

“He the one who saved your ass from Larrin last week?” The guy named Lorne speared Sheppard with a knowing look. “The woman was ready to turn this place upside down just to get ahold of you. You’re in big trouble, Shep.”

Sheppard threw a quick glance at Rodney before rubbing the back of his neck, smiling sheepishly.

“Tell me about it,” he told Lorne. “I don’t know what she expects me to do, to be honest. It’s not like I have superpowers or anything.”

The looks Lorne, Ford, and Dreadlocks Guy were giving him seemed to say otherwise.

“You’re kidding, right?” Rodney wondered why Ford appeared to be significantly younger than the rest of them. He looked to be at least a decade their junior, and the implications of that made Rodney’s gut turn. Ford continued to buzz with youthful energy. “With the way the whole place responds to you, you’re the only chance Larrin’s got at not being booted out of this joint.”

_That_ got Rodney’s attention.

“What do you mean? And what is the deal with that woman, anyway? Why would she get kicked out of the city?” Rodney fought the urge to squirm as all eyes landed on him. “She’s already a Resident, right?” No mere Visitors got the kind of security detail she flaunted last week.

Sheppard opened his mouth to answer, but was beaten to it by Ford.

“She’s illegal. Got in when the security protocols were still being beefed up. Must’ve been a hell of an inside job, to have pulled it off.” Rodney didn’t miss the way Sheppard, Lorne, and even Laura winced. Tall, Dark and Stoic remained, well, stoic, but it sounded like an old argument. “Either way, she’s been zipping around here ever since, avoiding regular scans. John must’ve seemed like a godsend when he arrived, what with his knack for making Atlantis do his bidding and all.”

There were so many things to unpack from all that, Rodney didn’t even know where to start.

“She’s really not so bad,” said Lorne.

Ford snorted. “She’s hot, I’ll give you that. But if she couldn’t get in here through the proper channels, this might not be the place for her.”

“You don’t understand what Resident means?” The growl came from Rodney’s left, and he looked up to see Conan Wannabe bristling, teeth bared. “Can’t really find another _place_ if they pull her out, can she?”

“Easy, Ronon.” Sheppard parked himself next to the big guy, and placed a hand on his shoulder. The effect was gradual, but Ronon eventually relaxed. “I’m sure Ford didn’t mean it like that.”

Ford looked like he _did_ mean it like that, but a sharp kick to the shin from Lorne cut any protests he might’ve wanted to share. Muttering about getting the refreshments, he left without another word.

“Now, gentlemen.” Laura gave Rodney’s left wrist a good grip and held on to Ronon’s bicep with her other hand. “We all look stupid standing here while everybody else is having fun.”

They were all led inside one of the ships scattered about, and Rodney felt his eyes pop at seeing how the interior was turned into a makeshift nightclub booth. He’s torn between being impressed and feeling insulted.

“Puddlejumper One,” Laura declared with a flourish. “John’s favorite.”

Rodney was really getting tired of Sheppard and his questionable taste. Before he could voice it out, however, his mind snagged a more pressing concern.

“Pardon?”

Laura gave him a flat look. “No. _Puddlejumper_.”

“Really funny, Laura. I _meant_, what the hell is a puddle-jumper?”

Lorne whispered something to Sheppard that Rodney was not able to catch. Under the lights that lined the ship’s walls, Sheppard’s elfin ears were more visible, and they turned a brilliant shade of red. When he caught Rodney staring, however, he sobered up pretty quick and offered a wink.

Rodney whipped his head to stare at someone else, _anyone else_, and made sure his demand for an answer was more apparent than the sudden warmth in his own cheeks.

“These things,” said Lorne, who had been watching the whole thing with a half-smirk. He waved a hand to indicate the whole ship. “Sheppard started calling them Puddlejumpers when he found them a while back. It used to be some sort of a museum or something. A shrine for all things sci-fi, I guess. Like this whole thing wasn’t sci-fi enough.” Everyone save Rodney chuckled at that. Even Ronon, who didn’t look like he possessed anything resembling a sense of humor, grunted in agreement. “He helped a couple of old-timers turn this place into the hottest scene in the city, and here we are.”

“Here we are,” Laura echoed with a nod. “Man, I love the Jumper Bay. Good work, John.”

Rodney was torn between shaking Laura silly so the bimbo act evaporates, and running Sheppard to the ground for turning his city into a red light district.

“My pleasure,” said the Atlantis Mario, ducking his head like the shy little schoolboy he clearly wasn’t.

“I mean, this place is amazing.” Strands of blonde hair were suddenly all over Rodney’s face, as Laura maneuvered the both of them into a lazy sprawl on the leather seat. “You guys should stop squabbling over other Residents and worry about us Visitors instead. We only get to spend five hours a week here. Talk about unfair.”

She continued with her paroxysms of despair even as Ford returned with liquid in all shapes and sizes. He offered Ronon what seemed like the guy’s own personal bucket of beer and was awarded with another grunt, this time less menacing. A nifty resolution, all things considered.

Lorne raised his own bottle to agree with the last of Laura’s monologue.

“I don’t know.” They all turned to Sheppard, whose face had gone wistful. “The preview packet protocols seem reasonable to me. Five hours should be enough for a Visit. Any more and we’ll never willingly go back. My first time, I barely managed to remember who I was and what was really happening. Without the time limit, I would’ve resisted and…well, let’s just say it could’ve turned for the worse.” When he caught Rodney’s eyes, the intense, alien gaze seemed to make a comeback. “Self-control and forbidden things are tricky like that.”

Rodney struggled with reading between the lines, and reeling at the amount of words Sheppard just said in such a short time. He didn’t even know the man was capable of more than a few syllables at a time.

“Whatever,” said Laura, taking a sip from her can of Irn Bru. “Seems like a design flaw to me.”

She just smiled cheekily at Rodney’s outraged splutter.

“Won’t be for long in your case, right?”

Lorne bumped a knee against Sheppard’s, causing the other man to flash them a shy smile that seemed genuine enough.

“Yeah. A couple more Visits, and I’ll be here full time.” He looked genuinely excited, even relieved, and Rodney briefly wondered why he felt more angry than disgusted.

“We’re really happy for you, Shep. You more than anyone deserve to Pass Over.”

“Teyla, right?” Ronon pitched in. “Your bride’s name?”

Sheppard flinched, though Rodney wasn’t sure at what. “Uh...yeah, Teyla. She’s a good kid.” His smile was warm, but significantly lacking the appropriate kind of affection. This whole getting-married business seemed like giant pile of weird. “I owe her a lot.”

There was a long silence after that, which Rodney spent being thoroughly confused.

“How about you, Rodney?” Laura’s gimlet stare found him and held on. “What’s a stud like you doing in a place like this?” He immediately regretted showing her _that_ movie. “Satisfying a curiosity or do you have plans to stay long-term?”

Everybody else found the change of topic utterly interesting, and in his mind, Rodney had killed the blonde spitfire a hundred times over.

“Yeah, man.” Ford was already leaning forward, listening with rapt attention “Your second Visit, right? Made up your mind already?”

Sandwiched between Ronon and Lorne, Sheppard seemed just as eager to hear the answer.

“I don’t really see how that’s any of your business.”

“Oh come on, Rodney. Surely you’re in here for a _reason_.” Laura played the harmless teasing quite well, but there was thin layer of something else added to the mix, one that’s for Rodney and Rodney alone. It screamed of betrayal, and a strong sense of interest.

“Rodney?” There was now concern in Sheppard’s eyes, and Rodney absolutely hated it.

“Well?” Laura continued to push. “What is it? Health problems, sudden epiphanies, one last jaunt? Give us a little something here.”

“Laura—”

“I think that’s a little _rich_ coming from you.” It was meant to be cutting, but Rodney ‘s voice wavered too much to achieve the usual effect. Rising to his feet, he managed to spit out a perfunctory goodbye before making for the Bay’s double doors.

Unfortunately, he didn’t make it too far before a smaller hand reached his elbow and he turned to see that Laura had caught up with him.

“_Now_ you’re concerned.”

He allowed himself to be dragged as the woman led them to a deserted hallway.

“Of _course_ I’m concerned, you asshole.” Laura took a deep breath to steel herself. “You don’t show yourself for over two years, and the next time I see you it’s _here_ of all places? Do you want me to die of a heart attack, McKay?”

“That Scottish swill you seem to be missing so much will kill you faster than strong emotions, trust me.”

Laura huffed, but made no attempt to respond. Something ugly and bitter threatened to claw out of Rodney’s chest.

“Well? You seem so interested about my being here, but you never disclosed why _you _are. Does Carson know his wife’s traipsing about in everybody’s favorite party town?”

The death glare Rodney received could strip rust. “Are you daft? He’s the reason I’m here in the first place.”

His anger stilled, replaced by something very, very cold.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Laura pursed her lips. “Not here, Rodney.”

“No.” This time, it was _his_ hand on _her_ wrist, and he couldn’t care less whether or not his grip hurt. “Tell me what the hell is going on, Laura.”

“Carson, he’s…well he’s—”

“He’s _what!”_

“He hasn’t been well, Rodney. He hasn’t been well for some time now; you knew that the last time you saw him.”

Rodney’s fingers were suddenly numb, and he only even notice that he’d dropped Laura’s hand when she used it to hold one of his arms, the contact like a lifeline.

“A little while ago, he started talking about this place. Just thinking out loud, you know how he gets. When I got sick of his tangents and skirting of the issue, I decided to get myself a preview packet to see for myself.” When Rodney looked at her again, gone was the façade of a flighty tourist, replaced by the eyes of an old friend. “He felt like it would be betrayal if he did it himself, but you know Carson has always been interested in it. Aside from the fact that it’s a great opportunity, it was his best friend’s creation. He wouldn’t want to miss it.”

Something lodged itself in Rodney’s throat, and he couldn’t breathe, much less speak. Laura seemed to see it, and the moment she let him go, he took off on a run.

First Radek, now Carson. When would it end?

_I am so sorry. We did everything we can._

Time had no meaning as Rodney placed one foot in front of the other, the hallways and stairs and towers nothing but a blur on either sides. Before he could sketch out a route enough to know where he’s going, he was engulfed in darkness and he came out to a strong breeze of ocean air.

Sheppard was already waiting for him.

“Hey.”

He was sitting on the edge, feet bare and dangling recklessly on what seemed like a twenty-foot drop. There was no real danger, but the sensations seemed real enough.

“You know Laura, huh.” Sheppard turned away and stared straight ahead, at whatever it was he’s kept seeing in the horizon. “From Outside, I mean.”

Rodney ignored better judgment and plopped right next to the other man.

“In a manner of speaking,” he told Sheppard.

They sat in silence for a long moment, before Sheppard sighed and spoke with the same anxious voice that only seemed to come out when they’re in this part of the city.

“Ronon’s been a Resident for three cycles now. Woke up from a plane crash to find his entire family dead and already buried. He took one Visit, and decided to stay right away. Fresh start, he said. Bravest man I ever met.”

There was something solemn in the way Sheppard’s talking right now, and Rodney didn’t dare speak for fear of breaking the spell. Could barely even breathe around it.

“Ford got sick from a young age. When he first came here, his physical prime was from a time when he was still healthy, and he’s been dead set to stay long-term ever since. Fought tooth and nail for a chance for it, too, so he’s mighty proud of having made it. Lorne I knew from way back when. Met each other again here, both of us Visitors. While he reminds me of a different life, he also represents second chance, you know? Confirmation that this is real, and that I’m finally gonna get a chance to live again.”

It was only when Sheppard seemed to be done talking that Rodney found his voice again.

“Is that why you’re here? For a second chance?”

Sheppard shrugged. “Among other things.”

Slowly, and so quietly Rodney barely felt it, the knot he carried with him after he left Laura in that hallway started to uncoil, and tension seeped out of his every pore. He was humbled by Sheppard’s words, and what other lingering resentment Rodney could manage to hold on to would just be in poor taste.

“It doesn’t matter what you are Outside, Rodney. It’s different here. _Atlantis_ is different.” Rodney felt a sharp line of heat on his right hand, and he looked down to find another set of fingers right next to it, a hair’s breadth away. “Could be for different reasons, might fulfill different needs, but this city is a gift to all of us. I hope you give it a chance to be a gift for you, too.”

When Sheppard’s watch beeped, it told them that there was only an hour left before midnight. As though something unspoken was decided between them, neither men made any move to stand or leave.

Instead, under the Atlantis sky that seemed just as real as anything else, Rodney allowed himself to think.

.

.

“And no citrus in any of the food or beverage, please. This guy here’s deathly allergic to it, and you really don’t wanna hear him give you a dressing down on his way to the ER.”

Sam kept her tone light, as though she and the waitress were sharing a private joke, but Rodney heard the steel underneath, saw the hard edge to her even stare.

“Noted, ma’am.”

After the young girl scurried away with their orders, Sam schooled her expression back to its polite, neutral state. Everything happened so quickly, Rodney wouldn’t even have caught it if he wasn’t already so fixated with the Major’s face.

“Rodney?”

“Hmm?”

He tore his eyes away from Sam’s cheekbones to meet her gaze.

“Lost you for a second there,” she joked. “Everything all right?”

Startled at having recognized a playful Samantha Carter — and for himself to be the receiving end of it, no less — Rodney filed the memory away to revisit at a later time, perhaps when Sam would be mad at him enough to lock him out of the labs. Again.

“Your hair.” he told her, taking a generous sip of the complimentary water. Oooh, cold. “It looks nice. Did you do something with it?”

He was finally able to pinpoint what had been bugging him since this morning. His mind even went so far as to consider asking Sam to open her mouth long enough to observe her teeth, but he promptly axed that idea for fear of losing his own.

So yeah, it must be the hair. Rodney’s attention had always been so drawn to it. That, and any conversation about her hair would almost certainly send Sam Carter in a spiral of madness. It’s very entertaining.

“Oh. Thanks, I guess. I—I had it cut a bit. Lost the wayward bangs, and all.”

See? It _was_ the hair. Sometimes Rodney—

“…And?”

Sam blinked. “And what?”

“Aren’t you gonna say something else?” Like threaten to brain Rodney with a spectrometer the next time he so much as _think _about her hair, perhaps?

“Do you _want_ me to say something else?”

Rodney realized something was very wrong. He braced both his wrists against the edge of the table and squinted at Sam, who immediately squinted back.

The new hair, the free dinner? Jokes that were not ironic, and a sudden ability to take his compliments?

“Major,” he started, going for soft and slow so as to avoid breaking the very fabric of reality, “are we on a _date?”_

Unlike most people, Sam Carter didn’t splutter when taken by surprise. She didn’t gape, or even blush. Instead, Sam went very, very still.

“We _are!”_ Rodney shrieked, only able to keep the volume down with years of abuse from his sister who’d punched him in movie theatres so frequently his reactions had already turned Pavlovian.

After what seemed like a brief eternity, Sam finally scoffed.

“Don’t be ridiculous, McKay.”

Her voice didn’t waver, but Rodney noticed that she couldn’t meet his eyes. Suddenly, a horrible though dawned on him.

“Look, Major.” He couldn’t say he was hurt, really. He would never allow himself to go that far. Not hurt, no. Just disappointed. “I really don’t appreciate being made fun of. I know I’m not the easiest person to work with, but no one deserves—”

“What? McKay—”

“—to be humiliated in public, all right? Surely juvenile pranks are a little beneath you, don’t you think? Now, if there’s—”

“MCKAY!”

Rodney found himself stopping mid-breath, his ears now ringing with Sam’s voice. It would seem the Major had no sisters to tell her shouting in public was a grave mistake growing up.

“You think I’m _pranking_ you?”

His entire body responded to her tone almost instantly, going right into a defensive mode.

“How else would you interpret this? Again, Major, I think I’m man enough to admit that I can be unpleasant at times, but I never thought you’d stoop this low.”

He waited for the usual denial, followed by the outrage, and the inevitable bodily harm, usually of the palm-to-cheek variety. Sam Carter may be a dignified officer of the military, but she’s still a prideful woman.

Which is why it was Rodney’s turn to go still when instead of all that, he felt a firm hand clasp his own from on top of the table. It was Sam’s.

“Hey. Look at me.”

Rodney decided it might be for the best not to resist.

When he looked up, he realized that Sam was neither mad nor aghast at the accusation. She didn’t even seem to be considering physical violence. There was still a complicated emotion on her face, however, and it was something Rodney thought he might never be able to fully understand.

“I’m not making fun of you, okay?”

They locked eyes for five of Rodney’s heartbeats, three of which he spent feeling entirely out of his own element. Before he could open his mouth to demand that Sam explain just exactly what’s going on, a waiter arrived and their meals were served.

Their food on the table and Rodney’s suspicions out the door, the rest of the evening was spent in the same manner they were accustomed to everyday. He tried his best to push all of Sam’s buttons, and Sam would dropkick every single attempt. It was fun, it was familiar, and it utterly failed to reset the sense of peace that settled within him from the moment when he realized that Samantha Carter would never hurt him.

“Greatest fear.”

Rodney looked up from his plate of rhubarb pie. “Seriously?”

“Come on, McKay. Humor me.”

Just to mess with her, Rodney moved slow when wiping his mouth and setting the napkin back on the table. It even took almost half a minute.

“_Rodney_.”

“Okay, okay!” Childish looked quite good on the Major. “If you must know, I am very much afraid of whales.”

Sam paused in her own struggle against a slice of cherry cobbler.

“I’m sorry. Did you just say _whales?”_

“Yes. Whales.”

“McKay.” She stretched the syllables of his name just so, as though she were talking to a very small child. “What’s so scary about whales?”

“Everything! Really, they’ve no business being so gargantuan and so…so…_whaley_.”

Sam closed her eyes, and opened them again. Rodney thought it was all too slow and too deliberate to be considered a blink. “You think they’re…whaley.”

He chose not to dignify that with an answer.

“Whaley,” she repeated, testing the word out. “Huh. Tell me, did any of your PhDs help you in coming up with that?”

He huffed. “Some of my net worth did.”

This time, the blink was genuine.

“Laugh it up,” he urged, over Sam’s dying hiccups. “What about you, Major? Are you afraid of anything?”

It was a throwaway question, both a common courtesy to return the query and a break from the extended whale fiasco. What Rodney wasn’t expecting was for Sam’s eyes to cloud.

“Oblivion,” she answered seriously, setting her fork to the side.

“Oblivion?”

She nodded, voice distant. “It was when my mom died. I started asking questions, about death and the afterlife. Couldn’t handle my anger towards my dad and everybody else, so I decided to handle something else instead.” She scoffed. “Organized religion would say one thing, science would say another. But no one really knows for sure, right? You can ask the question, maybe even formulate a hypothesis, but it ends there.”

_What happens to a person after they die, Mer?_

_Don’t know, Jeannie. And I don’t care. Now hand me that screwdriver. Not that, the other one._

“Well. There’s one thing I know for sure, Major.”

The light in Sam’s eyes returned, and she gave Rodney a hesitant smile. “What?”

“If you want something done, you really ought to do it yourself.”

And Rodney thought that would be the end to their discussion of oblivion. But before the night ended, as he turned right to hallway B-3 and expected her to go straight along hallway C, Sam paused in the middle of her template reminder for him to stop blowing up Air Force properties every weekend, and shifted in place.

“Something you want to share with the class, Major?”

Her answering grin was a little nervous, but very much genuine.

“I have a proposal for you, Dr. McKay.”

.

.

“Haven’t seen much of you last week.”

The data pad he liberated from Zelenka almost slipped from Rodney’s grasp. It only missed a good three-foot drop thanks to the sacrifice of so many predecessors, courtesy of Dr. McKay’s workplace hazards and butter fingers. Rodney spared a moment of silence for all the laptops he broke and fixed and broke again in his entire career, before spinning to face his intruder.

“A little jumpy, aren’t we?” Sheppard raised both hands in a placating gesture, and used one to point at the thankfully-intact data pad. “Busy too.”

Rodney decided to settle for a scowl. Glares never seemed to work on the other man.

“Yes, yes.” He quickly began saving the results of the latest set of diagnostics. Any hope of getting more work done were gone now. “Really busy. And do you always have to sneak up on me from behind? Do you get a perverse sense of satisfaction for startling me out of my skin?”

Sheppard just shrugged, and tucked both hands on his pockets. He’s wearing the exact same clothes he’s been in ever since Rodney met him. Plain, black shirt and pants that were a little lighter, but not by much. Change of clothes in Atlantis took only a thought and a bit of an imagination. It looked like Sheppard didn’t have much of either.

“I get something, all right.”

Rodney chose to ignore another one the infamous Vague Comments. Trying to interpret Sheppard’s words and actions was just an exercise in futility.

“As your keen skills of observation have already told you, I am quite preoccupied. How’d you find me, anyway?”

They were currently on a balcony in one of the smaller towers near the East Pier, just a short walk from the Travelers bar. Rodney had picked it to house his project last week.

“Like I said, I barely saw you last Visit. So, I asked your friend where you are.”

Rodney’s hand stilled. Sheppard talked to Zelenka?

“My friend?”

He was so tired of Sheppard and his shrugs. “Your friend. Short, weird hair? Harry Potter glasses?”

Rodney’s heart leapt at the reference, further confirmation that vintage entertainment media was yet another thing they seemed to have in common.

No. That was not what required his attention. If Sheppard recognized Radek, and knew that he had a friend named Rodney, well it wouldn’t take a lot to put two and two together to come up with a clue. And in this case, the right one.

“My friend, yes, yes. Didn’t realize you knew him.”

Sheppard continued to watch the view below as he gave another shrug, this time with only one shoulder.

“Never said I did. Just that I saw you with him last week. You know, when you guys were chatting up with Larrin.” He gave Rodney a sideways glance, more subtle than anything Rodney himself could ever hope to achieve. “Looked interesting, whatever it was you guys discussed.”

Fortunately, Rodney was saved from having to come up with an answer as the doors to the balcony hissed and slid open, revealing a pair of scantily-clad women. A couple, if the way they were draped all over each other was any clue. They quickly realized they had interrupted something, and left with nothing more than a few, charming words of reassurance from Sheppard.

Rodney busied himself with powering down the data pad as the other man made sure the women didn’t trip on the stairs on their way down.

“You know what I hate more than dumb people?” he asked the world at large, when Sheppard came back. “Dumb people who are pretty. I mean, it’s just a waste of genes.”

“The dumb genes or the pretty genes?”

A well-aimed sneer was enough to shut the stupidity of the question down.

“Right. Got it.” At least Sheppard had enough sense to look sheepish. “Some people are just gifted with advanced genes, I guess.”

Of course he’d think that. John Sheppard had perfect eyes, a perfect smile, a perfectly-symmetrical face, and perfect hair that everyone and their mother loved so much. He was the poster child of genetic fortune.

“It’s not advanced,” Rodney croaked out, a little surprised at the direction of his thoughts these past few days. He was just busy with the project, that’s all. “It’s a random characteristic.”

The look Sheppard was giving him clearly showed he wasn’t buying it.

“Whatever. I’m just saying.”

Their walk back to the central tower was spent with Sheppard giving him a rundown of all the things he missed last week. Apparently, Ronon met a new Resident chick, and Lorne had to stop two Visitors from changing the music in the Jumper Bay. It was only resolved when Sheppard decided to put on some classic country song, and no one had the heart to challenge his choice.

It felt good, Rodney thought, to be updated on things he missed out on. It was something friends did, and it had been a long time since he met people he allowed close enough to consider friends.

“Laura wasn’t there, though.” The darkened hallway lit up as they arrived. Sheppard led them to a pair of stained-glass doors that opened up to a small balcony that had the best view of the South Pier. “Do you know where she was?”

Who? Oh, Laura. “She couldn’t Visit. Had a few problems Outside.”

Rodney hoped Sheppard wouldn’t press for more details. He really wasn’t in the mood to recount a few days’ worth of frantic phone calls.

“Two more Visits,” was what Sheppard said instead.

“What?”

The other man kept his gaze on the pier, just a barely-noticeable strip of metal platform from where they were standing, but his whole body seemed to be vibrating with excitement.

“Two more Visits ‘til the wedding.”

He’d started calling it ‘wedding’ instead of ‘union’ when he discovered that it made Rodney throw a fit. Rodney, however, stood by the fact that ‘wedding’ just sounded too inappropriate, especially for a man about to be married at such an age.

“Ah. The Great Wedding.” Rodney almost waved the hand holding the data pad, and his subsequent squeak elicited a deep chuckle from Sheppard. It was a really nice chuckle. “You do realize that I still don’t get the whole deal with this marriage thing, right? Did you meet later in life, or what? And I noticed you never really talk about your lovely fiancée, either. Has she been here, will she Visit, too?”

Rodney hoped not. He really had no desire to meet and make nice with the woman, whoever she was.

“Nothing to tell, Rodney.”

“Really. Your own upcoming marriage, and there’s _nothing_ to tell.”

There it was. Another shrug. “It’s something I have to do.”

While Rodney can be obtuse at times, he did know when it’s hopeless to get a man like Sheppard to talk more about something he clearly didn’t wanna discuss. Whatever. It’s his life.

“Well. Aren’t you at least gonna tell me when it is? I _do_ get an invite, right?”

Again, Rodney really didn’t want to be within a three-mile radius of the whole thing. Thinking about Sheppard’s upcoming wedding made him feel weird inside, and he’s much too busy to look into it. Still, he could probably try to be decent friend by sending flowers. Maybe.

Beside him, Sheppard stiffened.

“Afraid not, buddy.”

“What? Seriously?”

Sheppard tried to pass his voice off as nonchalant, but this time, he missed the mark. “It’s a…private affair.”

“I’m not a close enough friend, is that it?”

Rodney knew he has to let it go. He really didn’t want to attend, anyway. That, and an invite would mean he had to finally tell Sheppard who he really was. He’s still not sure how that would go down.

“It’s not that.” Sheppard continued to stare straight ahead, and Rodney watched the outline of his neck as he swallowed. “You really just don’t wanna meet me Outside, Rodney.”

_That_ was new. “What? Why?”

“Just— trust me, okay? I’m different Outside.”

It wasn’t often that Sheppard didn’t make sense. Sure, his vague and cryptic words made for interesting and frankly frustrating conversations, but overall, he’s not as idiotic as the rest of the population. So it’s a bit of a surprise to hear this now.

“What? Rodney paused, enough to give Sheppard a chance to retract his statement. He didn’t. “Of course you’re different. We all are. That’s the point.”

“Rodney, please. Just drop it.”

In a bout of uncharacteristic recklessness, Rodney grabbed Sheppard’s jaw, forcing the man to face him. In those intense, hazel eyes, Rodney saw pain and insecurities, plain as day.

“…Rodney?” Sheppard asked, voice barely above a whisper.

They stayed like that for a long time, before Rodney heard a string snap at the back of his mind, and he let go in a flurry of limbs and apologies. He didn’t dare look at Sheppard for whatever his reaction might’ve been. He knew his own was already apparent in his burning face.

“You know,” Sheppard began, as though mere seconds ago they weren’t in a compromising situation, “there are plenty of better things to do with our time than fumble through awkward conversations. I think we’ve already established that neither of us are good at it.”

Rodney was pretty sure those words were not meant to be what they normally mean in the English language. “What?”

He had no choice but to face Sheppard, who had an elbow on the railing, body turned to him….suggestively.

He made himself gape. “You can’t possibly be asking what I think you’re asking.”

Sheppard didn’t even bother holding back a shit-eating grin.

“Are you policing my right to free speech, Rodney?” He waggled his eyebrows, clearly enjoying the discomfort Rodney knew he was broadcasting. “Last time you said you were flattered, right? Well, maybe now you could be a little _more_ than just flattered.”

“Are you out of your mind?” Okay. Not the best counter-argument, as there were just too many ways for Sheppard to answer that. “And wouldn’t that…I mean, wouldn’t it be _cheating_ on your bride-to-be?”

Something crossed Sheppard’s face, but it was gone as quickly as it came. The next thing Rodney knew, the hand not holding the data pad was now held by the other man.

Sheppard was surprisingly gentle about it, too. His gaze was focused on Rodney’s fingers, which were always better-looking in Atlantis.

“It really wouldn’t,” was Sheppard’s whispered reply.

It took a moment for Rodney to remember what the other man was referring to. When he did, he couldn’t deny the fact that he was really, really tempted.

Alas, he had more self-control than that.

So Rodney refused a second time, and a third and a fourth, when Sheppard just smirked and kept asking. For the rest of the night, they talked, and laughed, and Sheppard asked again, and again, and again.

Rodney, in turn, refused again, and again.

During the next Visit, he finally said yes.

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Rodney woke to the sound of a voice he knew all too well.

“…little over midnight. Yeah, vitals are good. He just……it easy.” Pause. “All right. I love you too, mom. I’ll……you soon. Bye.”

“Edith? Is that you?”

His vision was suddenly invaded by a grinning face. “Affirmative. You back to the world of the living, Dr. McKay?”

The teasing and tongue-in-cheek humor used to drive him insane, after going so long without regular human interaction. Now, Rodney cherished the dogged determination of one Meredith Emilie Zelenka.

“If I say no, will you leave me alone?”

Sitting up had always been a challenge after Visits. Medicine had come a long way since the last time Rodney volunteered to be under the care of a voodoo practitioner with a degree, but even science could only do so much to a failing body. And Rodney’s body had stopped putting up a fight a long time ago.

“Here.” Edith helped him up, already waiting with a pillow for his back. When he got settled, she handed a glass of water and waited for him to finish drinking before parking herself in her usual seat. “And you know I’m not that easy, Dr. M.” She leaned back and speared him with an inquisitive look. “So, good Visit? Tore my děda a new one?”

It never ceased to amaze Rodney that the graceful disposition of Elizabeth and Radek’s own taciturn nature, both of which their children inherited, skipped the next generation.

“I’ve told you many times, Meredith Emilie.” Man, that still never got old. Deny Radek your name for his spawn, and he’d blindside you when the first granddaughter came. “Until you’re old enough to make the trip yourself, you will just have to make do with what’s available. You grandfather’s life had been well-documented. You'll have plenty to go through before you see him again.”

Edith just rolled her eyes. “Told you. Not here for that.”

“Then why _are_ you here?” He gave his bedroom door a pointed look. “And without knocking, this time. Didn’t Cora and Antonin ever teach you the proper behavior of houseguests? Or was there no section intended for unwanted ones?”

As always, everything he said seemed to just delight the young woman. She giggled and shook her head and settled further in the loveseat.

“Mom and Dad sure did. And like I said, I’m just here to pick your brains.”

Rodney supposed there were worst things in the world. Still, he wouldn’t be himself if he let the kid get away so easily. That, and he’d been feeling a little contemplative since waking up. 

“Come now, Edith. Tell an old man the truth.” He waited, and watched as the beginnings of a squirm manifested in her posture. “You’ve been picking my brains for months now. Why are you _really_ here?”

And because she’s a Zelenka, one with enough exposure to Rodney McKay to survive life and more, Edith knew exactly how to shift gears.

“I found him, you know. The guy you asked me to look up last week.” She dug around her purse before brandishing a small data chip. “Wasn’t easy, too. Almost got me tempted to use old access routes.”

Rodney chose to ignore the obvious conversation trap, and warily accepted the purple disc.

All he found when he woke up from the previous Visit was the bare minimum. Air Force. Medical discharge. List of commendations. A brief educational background. He promptly asked Edith to dig a little deeper. He could’ve done it himself a couple of years ago, no sweat, but whatever pieces of tech left in his house were non-networked. Had been for years now.

He also needed the rest of the week to process what little he managed to get, what he just confirmed with this last Visit.

Air Force pilot.

Rodney clearly had a type. Or maybe a condition.

“Pretty hinky stuff there, Dr. M.” Snapping back to the present, he found Edith pursing her lips, face taut with concern. “You sure you wanna meet him?”

Rodney froze. He never told her anything beyond a first name and a last name, but Edith was a bright kid.

“You found him?”

She nodded, worry still not letting up. “San Francisco. Pegasus Medical Institute.” She paused, as though waiting for a reaction. When he gave her none, she continued with, “A subsidiary of Sheppard Industries.”

Huh. And did she just say _medical institute?_ “I take it he’s not a doctor?”

Some of the light returned to Edith’s eyes. “Nope.”

Rodney nodded absently. He let his gaze sweep all over his room, the shelves, and the walls becoming less and less real as the weeks passed.

“Did you happen to get the room number?”

Edith never learned to disappoint. She handed over a data pad this time, and Rodney scrolled through all the travel details.

“Would you like to go West with me, Mr. Meredith?”

He took the offered hand, and slid his legs off the bed.

“With pleasure, Miss Meredith.”

Her laughter gave him strength for the whole shuttle ride to California.

_You really just don’t wanna meet me Outside, Rodney._

When they reached the Institute, Rodney’s name proved to be both a blessing and a curse.

It allowed him to wave the necessary security protocols for regular visitors, a fact that horrified him and thoroughly entertained Edith. They almost made it to the room before a small mob — most of whom wore lab coats, Rodney noted with derision — cornered him in the hallway. It wasn’t until Edith stayed to hold them off that one nurse managed to take him away.

Apparently, word of a famous scientist pulling a social Lazarus still carried weight, even when it was a decade overdue.

“Room O-42, yes?”

Rodney lost his cane in the battle for his person, so he held on to the poor nurse throughout their short walk. When he looked up to acknowledge the question, his eyes caught the woman’s nameplate.

Teyla.

“I’m sure John would be glad to have visitors.”

Any other queries died in his throat when she opened the door, revealing one John Sheppard.

Rodney felt the wind get knocked out of him as he got inside, only able to stay upright by sheer force of will.

Two screens on the side near the window monitored vital signs. Soft beeps warred with the distinct hissing of a ventilator. On the bed, laid a frail-looking body, taller but thinner than Rodney’s own. His clothes were stark white, as was his hair, which still stayed as unruly as it was no doubt kept in his youth.

On the bedside table, sat the kit for the Atlantis Virtual preview packet.

“Wha- what happened to him?”

Teyla moved to one of the screens, checking the information in a way that spoke of a care that was more than just standard procedure.

“John has been here since he was 37. He was a Major in the US Air Force when his chopper was shot down in Afghanistan. He was the only one who survived, but a shrapnel to the back caused total paralysis.”

The edges of Rodney’s vision dimmed and for a second, the whole room tilted. It wasn’t after Teyla led him to one of the chairs that some of the feeling returned to his legs.

“Are you all right, Dr. McKay? Your pulse is steady but I’m not liking your color right now.” She moved to raise a penlight to his eyes, but he waved it away.

“John. Tell me…tell me more about John.”

She looked ready to protest, but something on his face must’ve stopped her.

“Like I said, he’s been here a long time. He had clear instructions for such an occasion, but his father took over the arrangements and he’s been here ever since.” Teyla followed his gaze on the bed, face alight with sympathy. “While it was a violation to ignore his wishes, I believe it was also somewhat a blessing in disguise. He was able to wait for Atlantis.” She turned back to Rodney, and her soft smile only made him feel cold. “Your creation was such a gift to him, Dr. McKay. His condition has greatly improved ever since he started his Visits.”

_But he still won’t get off that bed ever again_, thought Rodney.

“The marriage. That’s what it’s for.”

For a moment, Teyla looked taken aback. She quickly shook whatever it was she felt away to give him a short nod.

“Yes. The only way for him to Pass Over is for a spouse to override his family’s wishes and give consent. I thought it was the least I could do for someone like John.”

She went on about the wonders of modern medicine and how she came to be assigned to John, but Rodney was barely hearing any of it. He soon found himself standing by John’s bed, and, for the first time, held the other man’s hand in his own. It felt like a culmination of something he couldn’t yet comprehend.

John was asleep, Teyla explained. Only unlike the weekly Visits to Atlantis, he wouldn’t be having good dreams.

Rodney didn’t even realize there were tears in his eyes until Edith arrived to take him home.

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He kept walking even as the tugging on his arm got stronger and stronger. If he got derailed now, he’d never be able to see this through. Months of planning, down the drain.

“Rodney! Rodney— _hey,_ watch it! Will you just stop for a second?”

Besides, she could only ever hurt him by accident. Never on purpose. His arm was safe.

“Just a little— okay, okay. We’re here.”

‘Here’ was a little patch of sand along the shoreline, equidistant from the bar on the north, and the little floating huts on the southern part of the resort.

“O-kay.” Sam looked at him, then at the moon, then at her boots, which were now being accosted by the crashing waves. Rodney looked down with her, and frowned at the ‘X’ he marked the sand with when the sun was still up. Not his brightest idea. “You know you’re still not making any sense, right? And you better give me a ticket to the clue bus before Jack gets here. I can’t protect your honor if I don’t know what’s going on.”

Rodney raised his head to give his girlfriend what he hoped was one of the few death glares that actually worked on her. Jack O’Neill was the last thing he wanted to think about right now. Besides, the Colonel would no doubt be very busy, anyway. Rodney brought Dr. Jackson with him, after all.

“You’re a creature of the sky,” he started, flinching the moment the words came out. Okay. So they _still_ sounded as bad out loud as they did in his head.

He watched as Sam blinked, slowly and carefully, like there was a buffer between her ears and her brain.

“What?”

“You’re a pilot!” Rodney hissed. He flinched again at his own outburst. _So_ not part of the plan.

To her credit, Sam took it like a trooper. “Which makes me…a creature. Of the sky.”

“Yes, yes.” Rodney could feel sweat trickling down his nape. It didn’t at all complement the shivers wracking his entire body every now and then. One more strong gust of wind, and he’d either drop dead or shake apart into a thousand, tiny pieces. Right in front of Sam. “Sky. Yes.”

“Rodney.” Warmth bloomed from the spot on his arm Sam was now holding again. The moonlight did wonders to her features, especially her eyes. She looked absolutely breathtaking, tactical combat uniform and all.

“You didn’t tell me.”

It was the last thing he wanted to say right now, and the very first thing after he ended the phone call with Daniel hours ago, when he was still on the other side of the world, sick with worry.

“You said work, yes, but the doctors ordered light duty, Sam. In no way did that include playing Girl Friday for trigger-happy Colonels."

He never could hold an argument without sarcasm, They never yelled at each other when they fight, they did that enough in the labs for petty, everyday things. But Rodney became increasingly sardonic the madder he got, and Sam always used it to her advantage, steering the conversation to safer grounds way before they arrived to a resolution. Especially when she knew she was the guilty party.

“Rodney.” Her other hand grabbed ahold of the hand he has in his pocket, and his fingers fumbled before he allowed himself to be manhandled. “I’m not cheating on you with Jack, okay? Not even to piss you off.”

It was a weak attempt, as Sam knew that Rodney already knew that. And after holding vigil beside her hospital bed for three weeks, followed by a short recorded message when he woke up on their bed this morning, not even a month after the whole thing, Rodney would honestly prefer that alternative.

“I’m not dating you for a long con, either.”

She’s pulling all the stops, using old, inane arguments to stop Rodney from initiating a conversation he didn’t even want to have with her. It really wasn’t the conversation he’d had in mind when he dragged her out here.

But she’s guilty, and it’s evident by the slant of her lips that Rodney’s half-convinced she got from him.

“Hey.” He freed one of his hands from her light grip, and used it to tilt her chin so she’s looking at him. “Not mad, all right? Just…you just worried me for a second there, Carter. It hasn’t been that long since you were half-dead in my arms, remember? A poor, little civilian like me could only take so much, after all.”

They’re back on script, Sam practically sagging in relief, and Rodney decided it was worth. They had things they needed to work on, but they could wait another day.

“I know,” she said, leaning into the palm he had on her cheek. “It’s just a simple recon mission, really. A favor for one of the Colonel’s old friends.”

Rodney knew Sam’s hero worship of the man would never truly go away, but he’s long since accepted that it’s a feature to accept rather than a fault to be rid of.

“You still didn’t tell me what you’re doing here.”

Her tone was now more teasing than frustrated, but Rodney froze as he remembered his original plans. He stepped away from Sam so abruptly, they both almost lost their balance.

“Okay, okay.” He dug around his pocket. Still there. “Like I said. You’re a creature of the sky.”

No doubt feeling more patient now that she’d avoided a scolding she would have rightly deserved, Sam crossed her arms and gave him an indulgent smile. “We’ve already established that, yes.”

“You’re a creature of the sky. But you’ve also always loved the sea.”

And she really did, whale-related ribbing aside. Sam could wax-poetic about Abiogenesis and beachfront property. She didn’t particularly enjoy swimming, or even fishing, no matter how much she worshipped the very ground O’Neill walked on, but she loved the open water.

She said it was the furthest thing from oblivion.

“You love the sea, so when I first thought about doing this, it was always gonna be in one of these places.”

Slowly, Sam uncrossed her arms. Her face went slack and was now devoid of any obvious emotions, the way it got when she was genuinely surprised. Rodney could tell that she was trying her best not to move at all.

“Doing…what?”

Rodney took one long and deep breath, before showing her the ring he’d had with him for a little less than a year now.

“What the _fuck_ is going on right now?”

Her harsh whisper startled a laugh out of Rodney, as Sam rarely swore. But he couldn’t exactly say he was not expecting something like it, either.

“So. Teal’c had already forgiven me.” At this, Sam couldn’t help but snort. It’s an old running gag, but it still meant the world to Rodney. Making peace with Teal’c did wonders for his courtship with Sam. That, and the guy really had a brilliant mind for energy science. “And I’ve already come to terms with having George Hammond as the third member of this relationshi— _OW!”_

“Still not funny, McKay.”

It really kind of was. The look on Sam’s face when she told him he was on speaker and she was with the General when he drunk dialed her after a petty fight still made him giggle on a good day.

There was a long stretch of silence where neither of them seemed to even dare breath. When it went on for too long, Rodney decided he’d take one for the team.

Kneeling on one knee, and immediately regretting doing so as the water was already above the ankle, he held up the ring and looked up at the face of the woman he wouldn’t mind spending the rest of his life with.

“What I’m trying to say is,” He raised an eyebrow and shot her a smirk, unable to do this any other way but how they’ve been with each other from the very start, “I have a proposal for you, Major Carter.”

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A soft beeping sound brought Rodney back to consciousness, and he opened his eyes to the red digits of John’s watch on the bedside table.

Two hours til midnight.

When he shifted, the arm on his back tightened its hold and he felt the distinct shape of a nose snuggle deeper into the side of his neck.

“John.”

He wriggled, and wriggled some more, but the man would not budge. With much difficulty, one part because Mr. Cuddles was _strong_ and the other because he was warm and Rodney felt comfortable, he managed to turn over, and after a few attempts, finally got off the bed.

It didn’t take long for him to conjure up clothes, this time a ratty Atlantis University sweatshirt and a pair of faded jeans. They felt nice, somehow. Reminded him of his years in graduate school.

With one last glance at John’s sleeping form, he took his data pad and left.

It had barely been thirty minutes when John found him sitting on the South Pier. Rodney was in the middle of wrestling with lines of code when he felt a soft tap on his shoulder.

Needless to say, he preferred the cheeky one-liners more.

“Fuck!” Rodney muttered, saving the device from yet another unscheduled plunge. “Could you not _do_ that? Frail, old man here!”

He heard a snort as John settled in a next him.

“I should hope so,” the other man said, voice husky from sleep. “Otherwise your being here would be a little creepy.”

Rodney ignored the jab, his focus caught on fixing the error that made an entire page collapse. Zelenka was right, he really was out of practice.

“Rodney?”

“Hmm?”

“Hey.” He felt someone jostling his elbow, and found John pouting at him. “About a while ago.”

Sensing the gravity of whatever it was John surprisingly wanted to discuss, Rodney made a show of putting the data pad away.

“You wanted…well, it looked like you wanted to talk about something.” John was squirming, and fiddling with his hideous wristband. After a moment, he seemed to remember something, and his head shot up so he could pin Rodney with a look that should be illegal in the entire city. “Before we got distracted, that is.”

Rodney felt himself blush up to his scalp.

“Must you be so prurient!” he yelped, his voice almost drowned out by John’s loud guffaws.

“You’re just too easy.”

When Rodney recovered, he conjured up a smirk of his own.

“That’s not what you said two weeks ago,” he told John.

The effect was immediate, and John went red in the face. Feeling a bit magnanimous, Rodney waited for him to cough his way back to his natural color.

“Did you get that out of your system?”

John’s answering glare was a thing to behold.

“So, what was it?” He croaked out, making a sound that managed to convey both curiosity and irritation.

“What was what?”

“What you wanted to ask.”

Rodney tried to unplug his mind from his project, and ran it back to the first hour of the Visit.

“Oh,” he said. “Well. I did something. And…you’re, you’re not gonna like it. So.” He had a week to rehearse his words, and he knew a week or two more wouldn’t have made any difference. “Just- if you’re gonna punch me after this, a little heads up before you swing would be much appreciated.”

John nodded slowly. “Right.”

Rodney took a deep breath, and decided to just rip the band-aid off as quickly as possible.

“I went to see you,” he blurted out. “Outside, I mean.”

He closed his eyes, and waited for the worst. Rodney had made his peace with what he discovered in that hospital room. The ball was now on John’s court, and Rodney promised he would accept whatever it was the other man decided to do. It was already too late to pretend that John didn’t have the effect he had on him, and if Rodney was being honest, he no longer had any desire to do so.

But this, this part was out of his hands.

When heard a loud sigh, he opened his eyes.

“I already expected something like that, to be honest.” John was wringing his hands, and his eyes were on the ocean. “I mean, I thought I felt…” He shook his head. “But yeah, I’m not exactly surprised.”

The surge of relief was enormous, but Rodney felt it was too early to hope.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

John scoffed, and that one, short sound was filled with so much self-loathing, and came out so easily that it almost seemed like an instinct. Rodney absolutely hated it.

“You think I want anyone to see me like that?”

Rodney had to ask. “Even me?”

“_Especially_ you!”

The intense and complicated set of emotions was back in John’s eyes, and Rodney felt unmoored by it.

“If you wanna leave, end this thing, just go now. I wouldn’t hold it against you.”

“Hey.” Rodney forced the man to meet his eyes. “I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

There was nothing but the sound of waves for a long time.

When John took both his hands, Rodney couldn’t honestly say which one of them was more surprised. “That wasn’t me, Rodney,” John said. “I haven’t been me for a very long time.” They both continued to hold on, both out of their depths but both recognizing that this was a conversation they had to have. It was more intimate and more terrifying than anything they’d ever done for the last two weeks. “But it won’t be for long. You know that, right? I’ll be me again, just as soon as I Pass Over. You and I can forget about the man on that bed. You don’t have to carry the guilt of me around you anymore. I don’t want that. I want _this_, Rodney. I want Atlantis.”

In a distant part of his mind, Rodney heard Edith’s voice, urging him to be careful with what he decided to do next.

Rodney ignored her.

“Wanna hear a crazy idea?” he asked John.

The other man must’ve heard the manic quality to his words, as the desperation on his face was quickly replaced by cautious curiosity.

“What?”

“Wanna marry me instead?” The ringing in Rodney’s ears got louder, and it overwhelmed whatever protests John might’ve had. He decided to steamroll over all of them. “I met your Teyla. Lovely kid. You really could’ve ended up with worse. But…I mean, would you- wouldn’t it be better if you—”

“Yes.”

“—did it with someone you already-what? Did you…did you just say yes?”

“Yes, Rodney.” John’s smile was so bright, Rodney barely felt the other man’s hands on his face. “Yes, Rodney. I’d like to marry you.”

There really was nothing else to do after that but let himself get swept up in a tight embrace, followed by lips on his own that spoke of gratitude, tenderness and, most terrifying of all, promise.

When John hinted at better things to do with the hour they got left, Rodney followed him back to the central tower, powering down his data pad as he saved the latest batch of results for Project Arcturus.

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Their daughter was born on the first day of snow.

Many important people from the science community, a few folks with stars and birds and oak leaves on their shoulder boards, and one or two nation leaders, rejoiced at the news. Retired Lieutenant General Hammond sent flowers and a fruit basket; Dr. Elizabeth Weir sent food for the new mother, only half of which the doctor would know about; Jeannie Miller, who had been waiting outside for the past two hours, waited some more, this time holding three cups of Kona.

Radek was unfortunately on the other side of the globe, but his modified earplugs arrived a few days later.

Rodney promptly passed out the moment they wheeled his wife inside the room. In his dreams, he heard all the threats Sam hurled his way through all fourteen hours of labor. Most of them warned him against even the thought of getting her pregnant again. Some had been delirious babbling about who was really to blame for allowing her to proceed with natural conception. The rest were colorful insults on his person, his manhood, his science, and on one memorable instance, his favorite lunch order.

He slept with a huge smile on his face.

When he woke up, stirred back to the waking world by a nurse who really should’ve known better, he was greeted by the most beautiful sight: his wife of four years, holding their daughter in her arms.

He decided to forego yelling at the nurse after that.

“Look at what we did, Rodney,” Sam whispered, not even entirely aware he was already awake and listening.

They named her Alexandra. Alexandra Carter McKay.

From then on, their house had two girls with names one could easily assume belonged to a man, and a man who, despite years of telling people otherwise, really had a girl’s name.

Alex grew up loved, and loved every moment of growing up.

Rodney and Sam spent years cherishing her, fearing for her, and tried their damnedest shaping a better world for her. For the most part, they succeeded, and for the rest, Alex forgave them, and taught them how to forgive themselves.

A week after she graduated high school, a full year younger than when her mom did but three months short in the case of her dad, Alex came to Rodney. She looked small, and close to tears, and so scared he briefly ran through all the terrible things he was capable of and would not shy away from doing to erase the fear on her face. It didn’t belong there.

“I’m taking Liberal Arts,” she told him, brave like the way all the women in her life taught her to be. “Mom already knows.”

There was a short eternity, where Rodney’s breath got caught somewhere between his chest and his mouth, and stayed there. Something ugly and bitter floated down, and found a home, in his guts.

He wanted to scream, and lash out. He wanted to cry. Mostly, he just wanted to hit himself, and curse people long dead for bringing him into this world all wrong. People who left him to fend for himself, to figure out how to mold parts inside him, so that they were finally shaped right.

He wondered which parts stayed wrong, that his child could still learn to fear him so.

“I’m proud of you,” was the only thing he allowed himself to say. Slowly, the part of him that withered and died in the last minute, rose again as Alex rushed to his embrace, even before he finished speaking the words. "There is nothing you can do, that will make me stop being proud of you.”

They drove her to the airport a month later, and watched her board a plane that would take her dreams and their hopes to another continent. There, she would learn, and live, and continue to make her parents proud.

Three years later, she came back all wrong.

“It’s a virus,” Carson told them, face so calm and hands so steady that Rodney was only able to stop himself from throwing his best friend, the only medical doctor he ever respected, against the wall because Sam’s death grip prevented him from moving.

Their baby was dying.

For over three years, two scientists who respected but had no great love for the science of medicine, made themselves experts in it. Sam and Rodney almost tore the world, and themselves, apart trying to find a cure.

Sam’s political career crashed before it had any chance of taking off. All of Rodney’s research took a backseat.

And Project Atlantis wouldn’t see the light of day for a long, long time.

Still, even with two of the greatest minds on the planet for parents, Alexandra’s body could only take so much. The Wraith Virus saw her wasting away, her vibrant hair – darker than mom’s but lighter than dad’s – slowly turned grey, then white. She lost the feeling on her legs, then her fingers, until the slightest movement took all the strength of her frail, failing body.

Carson’s experimental treatment, his greatest creation and his biggest failure, could only give Alex extra time. She spent all of it, always, making Rodney proud.

They buried their daughter on the first day of spring.

The day after that, Sam walked away from Atlantis forever.

Six years later, a week after the first anniversary of his wife’s death, Rodney sold Atlantis Virtual to Altera Systems Incorporated.

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To be honest, Rodney didn't even realize he took too long to return until John entered Radek's lab.

"Hey." The man was still wearing the tux that made him look far more distracting than anyone had any right to be. Black was his color, and he knew it all too much. "Thought you dropped dead in here or something."

Rodney fought down a grimace, and quickly lost. Part of him knew that the death jokes were only gonna increase in frequency, now that the Passing Over had commenced.

"Very funny," he replied, refolding one sleeve of his own suit jacket. "I sincerely hope you were a better pilot than you are a comedian. Your newest state of existence can only do so much, after all."

As soon as the words were out, he quickly regretted them. While the other man could hold his own against Rodney's more acidic tendencies, it was still a remark made in poor taste.

Fortunately, John was too happy to take it personally.

"Sure was, buddy." He spoke with a small smile, his facial expressions often more dangerous than most projectile weapon, and Rodney knew he was forgiven. "That what you've been up to all this time? You building something I can fly in here?"

The man was just teasing, spouting nonsense for lack of anything else to say, so Rodney didn't feel bad for waving the idea off.

"Don't be ridiculous," he said.

John Sheppard no longer a pressing concern, he focused seventy-five percent of his brain functions back to the diagnostics he had been running, and spared the remaining quarter keeping the conversation running.

"Did you want something? Everyone still being their obnoxious selves out there?"

He heard John's snort over the beeping of one program finishing its scans.

"Ford’s still trying to see how drunk he could get Visitors before Atlantis resets their vitals. Something about breaking a record of one of the old-timers. Ronon’s roped half the guests into a weird group-dance thing."

System 4 and 5 online. Good, good.

"That man is a beast, I'm telling you." Rodney paused and turned to face John for a brief moment, determined to make the man see his point. "Utterly impossible. I can't even imagine what it would've been like if he and I met before this place. Insanity. Pure and plain insanity, and I can only take comfort in the fact that I'm not entirely sure which one would drive the other crazier."

As Rodney spun back to face his workstation, he caught a glimpse of something on John's face. It was quickly forgotten when Systems 6 and 7 failed to engage.

"Would've paid good money to see it," he heard John say over his hissed curses.

The screen kept telling him he forgot to import a section of the code needed to initialize the visual protocols. That did not make any sense, since—

"John, can you please hand me over that data pad?"

When he looked up, Rodney saw John already holding the device, squinting at something on the screen.

"Project...Arcturus," he read out loud, lines of code no doubt being reflected on his bright eyes as he scrolled through. "Pretty fancy name."

Deciding to wait out til the curiosity ran its course, Rodney turned back to his own screens and started working on the other problems. He'd liberate the data pad when John's infamous attention span made itself known.

"This what got you held up in here?" John asked, voice going distant. "They won't let you hear the end of it, you know. Science over your own wedding reception. Only you, buddy. Only you."

Something sharp lodged itself in Rodney's chest, but he promptly dismissed it. John didn't know, so it was pointless to take it out on him.

For almost half an hour, Rodney continued to work. He only snapped back to the present by the beeping of John's watch, one of the many things he had to change now that he's officially a Resident.

Rodney was just about to tell him the very same thing when he saw that John was no longer hunched over the data pad. Instead, the other man had his eyes glued to where Rodney was sitting. It didn't look like he was seeing much of anything.

"John?"

The man blinked, and finally met Rodney's gaze.

"Is this what I think it is?" John's voice had an edge to it, a sharp quality that contained all the feeling that was suspiciously absent in his stare. "Tell me, Rodney."

"What? How would I even know—"

"Rodney!"

It was the first time he ever heard John yell at him and mean it, and Rodney's defenses snapped up as a response.

"Well, if you think it's a database meant to house electronic information from an organic source, then yes, it is what you think it is." It's a terrible way to put it, but Rodney had a fine-tuned ability to dumb things down for stupid people, and it worked best when he got testy.

John clenched his jaw, and he held himself so tight Rodney briefly feared for the man's teeth.

"Your attempting to upload yourself. To a computer."

Rodney bristled. "Like _that's_ new. And it's not really all of me, not like...well, this. Like yours. But enough of me. My knowledge, my math. It will be interactive, and layered with algorithms that will make inquiries convenient. I've bullied Zelenka into working on the...aesthetic parts of the program. Maybe he can even make it look and sound like me. It'll be useful. For posterity. For the future of...this city, I guess."

Slowly, John slid off the stool and walked over to Rodney. He stopped just a few feet away, as though afraid to come any nearer but still powerless to an invisible force that pulled him closer.

"You were never gonna Pass Over, were you?"

Rodney's first instinct was to scoff, but his mind caught up and made connections of all the right pieces. Slowly, he began to understand.

"John..."

"Didn't even consider it," the man continued, sounding more and more untethered. "So the whole not going anywhere thing. What was it? Marrying me. Saying yes. What did it mean?"

Rodney swallowed. "A kindness. I— you don't know me, John. You barely know me. We only met here weeks ago, surely you don't— Look. You don't even know who I really am, or my family name. Do you even—"

"McKay."

"—know- What?... Did you just—"

"I know who you are, Rodney." John's eyes were even, but the guilt in them was familiar. "I met you Outside. Before. Just once, so you wouldn’t have remembered. But I did. I know who you are. I've always known."

A wave of something huge and ugly threatened to topple Rodney off his seat, and whatever guilt he was choking on got swept by a strong current of anger.

"You did, huh."

This time, he looked at John and didn't see the man that made him feel alive for the first time in over a decade. He looked at him, and only saw lies.

"You knew me Outside, well good for you. Congratulations. Did you also know that I had a wife? Did you remember that little part? Samantha Carter, Air Force General. Love of my life. And you know what else? Not. Fucking. Here." Rodney couldn't stop long enough to breathe, so he didn't bother. He was so mad, he's shaking from it. "You know my wife isn't here and you have the nerve, the _audacity_ to ask me why I wouldn't stay? Are you so removed from reality that simple fact can't make sense to you?"

He must've hit a nerve, as John's left eye twitched, and he looked ready to pounce.

"Then where the hell is she, huh, Rodney? Where the hell is your goddamn, perfect wife?” John was heaving, eyes bright in his anger. “If she loved you so much, she'd have been here! They told me you made this place. Are you saying she didn't want anything to do with what her own husband built? Must've been one hell of a life, if she decided to leave you the first chance she—"

The punch landed true, and Sheppard staggered a few steps back. As a Resident, his sensations were more pronounced.

Rodney, whose knuckles stung like a bitch but showed no blood, thought the whole programming was a whole lot of bullshit.

"Fuck. You."

The words seemed to cut more than the punch, and he watched as pain blossomed in Sheppard's eyes.

"Thirty-one years. I was married to her for Thirty. One. Years.” It didn’t even include three years of knowing each other, of a tentative friendship. Another four years dancing around a relationship they didn’t quite know how to handle, but tried to nurture anyway. It didn’t count ten years, a whole decade, of being alone, with wife and daughter gone. Rodney struggled to breathe through the pain, as visceral as the sudden tide of memories. “You cannot imagine. You can't ever _hope_ to understand. The bond. The laughter, and the boredom. You can't _know_. The pain. The yearning. The love.” He laughed, the sound grim and almost hysterical. “The fucking _love_.”

Now that the floodgates were open, all the words came spilling out. For the first time in a long while, he couldn’t quite sync his brain to his lips, thoughts and words taking every heartache, every pain, and just running away with it.

“We shared everything together. Science. Dreams. Fears. Alex.” It’s been a long time since Rodney’s spoken her little girl’s name, and he almost gasped as he did. “Always difficult, always beautiful Alexandra. Our baby. Brilliant and brave. Taken from us too soon. She died at age twenty-two and Sam and I, we felt that heartbreak as _one_.” He started taking a few, careless steps, circling the lab but always away from John. He was suddenly restless, waving a hand around him. “Atlantis, this city you love so much? Yes, I built it. My wife feared oblivion, so I made sure she won’t ever have to face it. I built her Atlantis, but in the end she couldn't have it. Not without Alexandra.”

When Rodney finally allowed himself to look at the other man, he saw the tears he knew were most probably in his own.

“You're asking me why I can't stay, that's why. I built this city for her. Not you. Not any of you.” The words were knives, but he didn’t care anymore. Lies, truths, they all hurt the same. “I made it for my wife. But she isn't here, so what's the point?"

“Rodney—” John took a step towards him, but that’s as far as he allowed himself to go. “I…I didn’t know. I—”

“No, you didn’t. Now get out.”

“Rodney—”

“Just get out, John. Get the hell out of my lab.”

The last thing he heard was a soft, fervent apology, before the door closed.

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The office windows allowed sunlight to stream in, making the familiar, crystal cylinder appear like it’s shimmering in the already well-lit space.

Rodney knew that the small ZedPM was powering the entire building from this room, maybe even the compound if they rigged the systems efficiently, and he was once again reminded of the marvel that was subspace technology. It was the very first project he worked on with Sam, a lifetime and a half ago, but he could still see the results almost everywhere he went. Tiny, endless ripples of the legacy they spent their whole lives building.

“I’ll admit, this puts us in a rather…compromising situation.”

He tore his gaze away from the crystals, and the memories, and wasn’t even surprised to find that the pain which often accompanied such thoughts no longer came.

The younger man sitting across from him offered a small smile before pursing his lips, careful with words in a way Rodney never got the hang of in his youth. Or ever, really. Janus might be a talented businessman, but he was also every bit a scientist. It took one to know one, after all.

“We didn’t even know people like…Miss Larrin were still in the system. We’ve had a few problems with stray energy readings over the years, but nothing as problematic as…well, as the first overhaul.” There must’ve been something on Rodney’s face, because Janus shook his head and started to backpedal. “Nothing like that, I assure you. Their data is still available. Er, somewhere.” He flinched, looking younger than both his age and position would indicate. “Soon to be housed in new…facilities. Don’t worry, Doctor. We’re not barbarians.”

Rodney nodded. Part of him was already starting feel relief, but he wasn’t quite done yet.

“Of course. But like I said, Larrin and her people stay on Atlantis.” He shot Janus a smirk. “I have it on good authority that she quite likes it there.” He lifted a weathered finger to point at the data chip on the table between them “As for your…other facilities, the information there may be able to help you. ASI’s resources are unparalleled, and you have the city’s base code, after all. I’m sure it wouldn’t be too difficult to…well, replicate what’s already there.”

The other man opened his mouth, ready to protest, but Rodney waved him off.

“Atlantis need not be the only one of its kind, Janus. It wasn’t always going to be. We changed the very landscape of human existence; it wouldn’t hurt to make it available for everyone. People should be given a choice.” When he smiled, it was a gesture extended not to a tech magnate, or even a protégé, but to a godson with whom he’d shared many bedtime stories and scabbed knees. “Oblivion is a fear of many, after all.

Janus’s answering smile recognized the sentiment for what it was. “Of course.”

He took the chip like it was something precious, and after fiddling with it a bit, he whispered, “And Dr. Zelenka?”

This time, Rodney pursed _his_ lips. One learned a thing or two after the kind he’d led.

“Dr. Weir has relinquished all access to backdoor channels. As will I, soon as I’m finished with…necessary arrangements. Counterparts within the system will likewise be expunged. I will personally see to it. We’ve come to realize that it may not have been fair to have such an advantage over the city that not everybody else is even aware of, much let possess.” He tried for a wry grin, but he hoped the gravity of his words would be acknowledged. “If someone else had a cheat sheet for _this_ life, you’d find it equally troublesome, would you not?”

There was a beat, where Rodney felt each weary bone, every year and every sacrifice that separated him from the younger scientist, but when Janus held his gaze and nodded, he knew he’d made the right choice.

“Good, good.” He started pushing back his chair, and made a grab for his cane. “I thank you again for seeing me today, Janus. Please send my regards to your parents.”

He was bid goodbye with a crooked, boyish grin. “Anytime, Uncle Mer.”

It felt good, to leave a corporate building with a lighter burden than when he came in. It didn’t happen often in his long life, but like what he told Janus, the world’s changing. What little part he had in making it so, he’d cherish til his last breath.

“Everything went okay?”

Edith’s mischievous face greeted him when he stepped off the transporters. A prototype, the ASI told the people in a press conference a few months back. A huge leap in revolutionizing public transit. It made him hopeful for the future of science.

“Good morning to you as well, Ms. Zelenka.”

Edith just giggled, utterly unrepentant. “_Almost_-Doctor Zelenka.”

She circled back and grabbed ahold of his free arm.

“Only if you survive your defense, remember? Like I said, I am not standing beside you during your presentation. Not even to intimidate your woefully-unqualified professors.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Her ponytail continued to bob as they walked, another thing Rodney could no longer find in himself to dislike. “Old conversation. Matter resolved. Next, please.”

Fortunately, the lobby was mostly deserted. It was, however, unnecessarily huge, and Rodney was sure the walk would be murder for his ankles.

“So how’s Elizabeth? Your grandma okay; did you go to see her yesterday?”

Edith’s grip on his arm tightened considerably, but she kept her eyes ahead.

“Yeah,” she whispered after a moment. “She’s good. Said your visit cleared the cobwebs of her diplomatic skills. Even ranted a bit about international news.” At his raised eyebrow, she rolled her eyes. “Okay, maybe not _rant_. More...monologues. Long, pedantic ones. Almost made my dad weep when he disagreed with her over some treaty with the Russians.”

While Edith was Elizabeth Weir’s blood, she’s still but a child, with temper much like his own, so Rodney knew that waiting it out would prove most effective.

After a beat, she sighed and started walking with a heavier gait.

“Mostly, she’s just…quiet. Waiting, I guess.” When she turned to look at him, there was sadness in her eyes that spoke of grief that’s being handled like a champ. Rodney felt pride bloom in his chest. “Won’t be long now.”

He could only really nod to that. After speaking with Elizabeth, he’d pretty much figured that much. Nothing he could do about it now.

As they stepped out of the building, a sleek, black town car zipped past and stopped in front of them. When the windows went down, Rodney found himself face to face with a smug-looking Laura Beckett.

“Looking good, McKay.”

Seventy-nine years old, and still the bane of his existence.

“And you’re still ravishing as always, Laura. What can I do for you?”

Laura winked at Edith, before opening the door to the vehicle. “I want you to take a ride with me, Rodney.”

He tried not to let his surprise, and irritation, show. It’s best not to provide the woman with any ammunition. He used his cane to make two, hard taps on the pavement, looking for a second like he was thinking about it.

“Nah,” he told her. “I’ve got better things to do than spend my time painting the town red with you. I always end up in interesting places afterwards.” He gave her a scowl for good measure. “With gaps in my memory.”

Behind him, he heard Edith giggling. Rodney sighed. There was a good reason why he’d tried keeping Laura away from impressionable youth, after all.

“It’s okay, Dr. M. I’ll be fine.” Edith released his arm, and gently nudged him to the direction of the open car door. “I’ll wait for the service here, have it take me home instead.”

“Edith—”

“_Go._ It’ll do you good to spent time with people more…your age.”

He and Laura both squawked in indignation.

“I just saw her two months ago.” Rodney gave Edith a pointed look. “Trust me, it’s still too soon for another encounter.”

He could see Laura rolling her eyes from behind her sunglasses. “Just get _in_, already!”

After extracting a promise from Edith to notify him the moment she got home, Rodney crossed his mental fingers and got inside the car.

Fortunately for his sanity, Laura made no attempt to engage him in small talk of any kind. The verbal part of their relationship had always required an audience.

Unlike shuttles, the town car was still gas-powered, a testament to the Beckett’s love for all things vintage, so it took a while to reach their destination.

In this case, it was the Beckett residence.

“We’re home,” Laura declared softly, smile not quite genuine.

There was a short, hilarious moment where the driver had to assist the both of them to the house. Leave it to Carson to have a front door that was on top a flight of stairs. By the time they reached the last step, Rodney’s joints were ready to give up on him.

Laura gave her an amused smile. “A little rustic, I know.”

The last time he’d visited was six years ago, a few months after Radek passed. It was comforting to find that the foyer, at least, remained virtually unchanged.

“He’s outside,” said Laura, giving his arm a gentle squeeze. “With the petunias.”

True enough, he found Carson by the gardens, surrounded by all kinds of flora. It had always been his favorite spot, something about the greens and the pinks and the purples, the smell of soil and grass, that reminded the man of anything but emergency rooms and operating tables.

Rodney hated Laura a little bit, for forcing him to break what peace his friend managed to carve for himself.

"Ca—"

"Rodney?"

There's a joke in there somewhere, about old men and heart problems. While Rodney busied himself with going over how best to announce his presence, his knack for talking out loud did all the work for him.

"Carson. Hi."

He flinched at the look of surprise on the other man's face. Carson Beckett had always been jumpy, and retirement, followed shortly by his confinement to a wheelchair, only ever made things worse.

"Right. Laura." Carson sighed and ducked his head, as though his words made perfect sense. His attention went back to the plants, but his fingers, always steady and always sure, fiddled with leaves and petals, moving without rhyme or reason.

Rodney rolled his eyes and began trudging, one leg-and-cane at a time.

"No," he said, a little pissed at being ignored so easily, "_Rodney_. My name. Do I look like your bloody wife to you?"

He heard a familiar huff of impatience, but nothing more. Okay. Two can play that game, even when one is an abrasive Canadian with narcissistic tendencies, and the other, a proud Scotsman with Imposter Syndrome.

"Seriously, Carson. I'm not starting to look like the missus, am I? Because that could mean problems. Especially for the both of us."

There's a snort, and finally, Carson spoke.

"Yer still not funny."

The sentence ended just as Rodney reached the man and his silver throne.

"Never said I was," he rasped out, slightly out of breath. "But the least you could do is laugh, considering how the mother of your children practically kidnapped me so you have someone to talk to on this fine day. Other than the birds and the bees, of course."

Carson made a sound that was now closer to a laugh, but still refused to meet his eyes. "Of course. Because I'm the social pariah and you are the village yenta." He proceeded to throw a dead flower he procured _somewhere_, and it landed square on Rodney's chest. "And will you quit calling Laura all sorts of things. She has a name."

"Ow! And no, I won't recognize any of Blonde Beckett's individual merits when she's pissing me off." He picked at the bits of red that got stuck on the fabric of the sweater. "And she's been racking up points like it's a Vegas weekend. Scared me half to death, showing up in Atlantis the way she did. Almost thought...Well, many thoughts crossed my mind, that's for sure."

The other man sighed, and he gave Rodney the quickest of sidelong glances before bowing his head again.

"Yea. She told me about that as well." Flowers ignored, Carson started picking on something that seemed awfully interesting on his thighs. "Listen, Rodney—”

"Don't be an idiot."

"—I didn't...Wait, what?"

Rodney took a slow and deep breath, just to emphasize how stupid he thought Carson was being. It always drove the man nuts. "I said, don't be an idiot. You have nothing to explain to me."

Carson raised his head, blinked, and prepared to protest.

"Save it, okay?" There's a tiny feeling of glee, that always accompanied every moment of interrupting someone's pity party. "I know you didn't tell her to get a preview packet. But have you _met_ your wife? Are you seriously under the impression that you can tell her what she can and cannot do? That woman loves you, and she saw that you were interested in Atlantis. So, she decided to check it out."

There was a moment of silence, where Carson tried opening and closing his mouth several times. No words came out. After a while, the stubborn fool opted to look guilty instead.

"Oh for the love of— don't look like that, okay?"

"Like what!"

"Like I— like…I don't know, like I killed your camellias or something. Carson, I'm not mad at you for considering Atlantis. What the hell made you think I would be, anyway? You never saw me bitch about Zelenka." Pause. "Okay, yes you did, but never about that!"

There was series of muttered words, but they were too faint and too Scottish for Rodney to understand.

"What? Speak up, I can't hear you!"

Carson spat, "I said because Radek wasn't the bloody bastard who made you hate it in the first place!"

Irritation ebbed away, replaced by dread. Because that was the crux of the matter, was it, the thing they'd spent the last thirty minutes and sixteen years avoiding.

"What right do I have, Rodney?" The man sounded so defeated, Rodney didn't need to look at him to picture the guilt he was drowning in. "Atlantis was supposed to be yours, and Sam's, and Alex's. But I failed. I failed, so what bloody right do I have to want it for myself?"

It had been a long day, and it was about to be longer. No one could fault Rodney for parking his ass right there on the grass. He waved off Carson's gape, and made himself talk.

"You didn't fail, Carson. It wasn't your fault."

It was a truth Rodney had always believed in, but he just wasn't able to say it in so many words. Until now. Part of him thought it was Carson's responsibility to console himself, and the other part feared that breathing life into that admission would be like betraying the memory of his little girl.

"I'm sorry if you never heard that from me before, and I should have said it to you a long time ago. But it wasn't your fault. I didn't forgive you, because there was nothing to forgive. I...it really was just time for her to go." It hurt, to breathe through the pain. But a distant part of Rodney's mind realized that it was no longer as bad as it was before. "And the rest— the rest wasn't your fault, either. Sam...she made her choice. And I had to learn to live with that."

"Rodney..."

"Look. It won’t be an act against me if you choose to...if you chose Atlantis, okay? I— well, let's just say I've come to learn a lot of things these past few months. I've...put a lot of thought into things. But even then, I still wouldn't have begrudged you the choice."

Unable to take any more, Rodney gave Carson a quick smile, before heaving himself up and making a circuit back to the house.

"Rodney, wait!”

He inclined his head, but didn't turn around.

"Laura told me about other things, too."

He didn't ask what about, and Carson didn't seem to need him to, either. "She told me, Rodney. And...Well, I just wanted to tell you that it's perfectly all right."

Rodney couldn't help it. He spun around and speared the other man with a confused glare. "What's all right?"

The smile on Carson's face was tentative, but far better than anything he's given him for almost two decades.

"People can fall in love more than once, Rodney,” said his best friend of many years. “It's perfectly okay to love again."

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By the time Rodney got to the mess hall, Sam was nowhere to be found.

"Hey, excuse me." He tapped the first person he could reach on the shoulder. “Excuse me, have you seen—” He paused. Neither he nor Sam liked addressing each other by their status as spouses in the workplace. It just seemed weird and unprofessional. But sometimes, Rodney would slip. "Have you seen Colonel Carter? Sam Carter, formerly Major, newly-promoted Lt. Colonel. Tall, blonde, really pretty?"

There was a mess of dark hair, before a pair of bright, hazel eyes locked with Rodney's. They were intelligent eyes, and not always often found on a man who was so clearly a flyboy.

"What?"

Rodney huffed in impatience. Maybe he judged too quickly. And it was pointless to look for the Colonel now; she did say she was busy, and might not even return until after dinner.

"Are you an officer?" he asked Flyboy instead. Rodney could read brass, but the man was not wearing rank insignia of any kind.

"Uh..."

"Are. You. An. Officer."

"Major," the man replied quickly, surprisingly easy to intimidate.

"Good, good." Rodney took a step back, eyed the man up and down, and nodded. "You'll do. Come with me."

Logs required an officer, after all. Again, he'd really rather have someone significant enough for him to have met before, preferably someone already married to him, but he'd have to make do. Showing Sam better diagnostic results would also help her mood, especially since the briefing she was about to attend included two politicians neither of them were particularly fond of. That, and she’d been a lot more moody lately.

When Rodney reached what he now dubbed as the Chair Room, he was pleased to find Flyboy just a few steps behind.

"Good, good," he repeated, his mind already on the initializing protocols. When he booted up the console, he realized the man who’d claimed to be a Major was still standing by the threshold. "Sometime today, please."

Apparently, the man _wasn't_ as easily intimidated as Rodney was first led to believe. He continued to lean on the door frame and he had his arms crossed over his chest.

"Okay. I'm Dr. Rodney McKay, I work with your military, and I need your assistance. On the chair now, chop chop."

That seemed to do the trick. The Major uncrossed his arms and started to approach the massive structure mounted at the center of the room.

"What's it do?"

Rodney paused in his typing just enough to send a death glare. A flyboy with curiosity. Perfect.

"Sitting, now; asking, later." The man didn't budge, so Rodney sighed. "It's a viewing platform for a long-range satellite. Reaallly long-range satellite. Way above your paygrade."

It was above Sam's paygrade, too, but she's okay. She got marital privileges.

"...So what am I doing here?"

He was really starting to run out of patience.

Stomping his way to the platform, he grabbed the officer by the shoulders and forcibly made him sat down. There was a brief moment where Rodney's self-preservation instincts tried to stop him from manhandling a member of the military, but it was too late and he was already moving. Fortunately, the Major complied and he only looked at Rodney with a small, amused smile. Even whistled a bit as Rodney walked back to the controls, which was just weird.

"Put your hands on the armrests, please." He heard a snort, but his laptop told him that the man followed the instructions easy enough. He could afford to be a little Canadian for the moment, as long as it got him what he wanted.

The data in the screen told Rodney that all systems were ready. He typed in a few commands, and waited for the ceiling to light up.

"Okay, Major. Think about where we are in the Solar System."

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Rodney had spent the last few minutes being extremely fascinated by his fingers. He kept clenching and unclenching his fists, and he could feel Radek growing testier beside him.

“Rodne—”

“Just a second.”

The other man sighed, clearly biting back a smart remark.

His entire body tingled, the skin feeling like it was stretched too thin. It felt like putting on a new pair of pants.

Rodney snorted, and he saw Zelenka rolling his eyes. For the third time since he woke up.

“Your only delaying inevitable. I told you already.” Radek extended both his arms to the direction of the sliding doors. “_Go_.”

As though to prove the man’s point, Rodney’s body went right back to clenching tightly, tension bunching up the muscles in all the wrong places.

“Rod-_ney_.”

“Okay, okay!”

He took a deep breath, and made a beeline for the door.

As promised, no one stopped him through his short walk. Radek told him everybody knew, but they won’t come to see him – or help him, either – unless he did what they all believed he had to do first. Alone.

Rodney had been contemplating about the best way to make all their lives miserable when he reached the South Pier.

There’s no one there.

“Great,” he muttered, squashing the tendrils of disappointment before they could have any chance to grow. Sure, they were going to run into each other eventually, but it didn’t mean the man would be eager for it. Rodney didn’t really know why he expected otherwise, not after the last time they talked.

“Beautiful in the daylight, isn’t she?” a voice spoke from his right. “Sorry I’m late. Got a little held up.”

Leaning next to the transporter-door thing, was one John Sheppard. He had both arms crossed over his chest, looking cozy in his signature black-and-black ensemble. He didn’t look like he was running late at all.

“You’re here,” said Rodney, unable to really conceal the awe in his voice.

Slowly, John made his way to him. When he was close enough for Rodney to touch his face, he went weak at the knees, when he saw the same intense and alien gaze still present in the man’s hazel eyes.

“Wasn’t really planning to go anywhere.”

//end


End file.
